Jack Black and the Stoned Philosophers
by ChaosGamer
Summary: When I began reading Harry Potter, I realized one thing; I was not in it. This should not be. So I simply took canon and inserted myself in it, resulting in more humorous story. R&R! Edit: First Chapter majorly revamped. Update: The Second Book is here!
1. Intro

The windows were open, and the birds were singing outside; the radio upon the window showed the time with its digital screen: 7:59.

A boy was sleeping inside the room; his eyes closed, with cover on. It seemed a bit shameful to wake him up. But time waited for no one; the clock on the digital screen changed to 8:00 AM, and the words - Good Morning - floating up from below the screen. Its knobs whirling, it began to play a fruity music.

His eyes twitching, Jack violently slapped the knob, thus silencing the radio. His arm drooped outside the bed; but not for long. 5 seconds later the clock on his bedpost began to ring. Groping with his hands, he smashed right down on the button.

Then the clock on the other side of the room began to ring.

With a sharp intake of breath, he began to twist and turn, scowling. But he couldn't handle the noise; grabbing a small stone from a potted plant on his bedpost, with one of his eyes barely open, he threw it against the clock. His aim was accurate; upon hitting the clock it was forced backwards on its back, silenced.

But right then and there the five minute mark passed; all three clocks in the room began to ring again.

The radio on the windowsill began to play a metal music this time; the clock on his bedpost rang, and the clock on his desk rang. Groaning and moaning the boy on the bed covered himself up with his blanket, hoping to drown out the noise.

After twitching and turning, his body shook with fury; he had enough. Suddenly jumping out of his bed, he threw his blanket to the ceiling; he turned off the clock #1, the radio, clock #2, and jumped back on to the bed just in time for his blanket to gently drift back on his bed.

Five minutes after, the clock inside the bookshelf began to ring.

* * *

Jack sat back down on his bed, rubbing his eyes. Words could not express his annoyance for mornings.

Suppressing his yawns, he called out:

"Kreacher!"

With the loud crack, a tiny elf appeared on the side of the bedpost.

"Yes young master?"

"Are my bags ready for departure?"

"Yes master."

"Good. And stop calling me master; you are making me feel old already..."

He proceeded to stand up, albeit haphazardly, and began to walk toward the bathroom.

Within minutes, the sound of the water began coming from the WC.

Kreacher sighed. He would soon be alone in the Grimmauld Place once more. He would miss Master's presence in the house, his little jokes, his companionship...

Jack came back from the bathroom; looking clean as ever, he promptly picked up his bags and wore his cloak, readying for departure to the Diagon Alley.

He noticed the expression on his elf's face. Frowning slightly, he said-

"Hey bro, its not like I'm leaving to Hogwarts now."

"Yes master... however the house would be less... exciting without your presence."

"Oh come on, I'll see you again in Christmas...and in Summer! Its not that bad... You'll take care of yourself fine. No need to worry."

And with that note, he stepped outside of his room, and his house.

* * *

Jack stopped in from of Leaky Cauldron after arriving in London on a muggle cab; the cabbie looked a little suspicious, with a kid hailing a taxi and all, but with sufficient money and a tip he did not ask questions. It had always fascinated him to think of what kind of magic was used to make muggles unable to see this shabby shop, squeezed right in between two muggle stores. Recalling the first time he came here, he went inside and closed the door.

It only contained few old women who were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to an old bartender.

"Morning Mr. Tom." Jack greeted, as he set down his bags.

"Ah yes, Mr. Black. How's your day today?"

"Pretty great... Got letter of acceptance to Hogwarts few days ago. Going to buy supplies."

"Excellent Mr. Black. Now you would finally own a wand like you always wanted to."

"Yes... A visit to Ollivander's; I wonder how much wand will it take for him to find a right one?"

Chuckling at his own joke, he began to head for the courtyard; that's when he remembered: he had no wand. Smiling sheepishly he headed back towards the Leaky Cauldron, looking for someone that could accompany him out to the Diagon Alley.

He scanned the crowd... Doris Crockford... Dedalus Diggle... Professor Quirrell.

He went over to the table where it seems that Professor was preoccupied with something. He promptly tapped at his shoulder.

Professor Quirrell jumped, spilling his mead over his robes. He whipped back, staring at the intruder.

"Sorry if I scared you professor... I just need someone with a wand to open up the archway to the Diagon Alley."

"Oh... O-Of course my lad... I'll open up the way..."

Trembling with nervousness, he got up, walked down to the courtyard, counted the bricks, and tapped the brick above the trash can three times.

The brick wiggled, small hole appearing... the hole got larger and larger, until it became an alley way, the cobbled walkway twisting and turning out of the sight.

"Thank you very much Professor..." He began walking out of the courtyard and into the streets.

Professor Quirrell smile dropped from his face as a scowl took its place.


	2. The Wand

Jack stood facing the magnificent street, bustling and hustling with people selling and buying items left and right.

It kind of reminded him of Muggle Auction House.

He started to walk forward, taking a look at his supply list.

**HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY UNIFORM**

**First-year students will require:**

**1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)**

**2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear 3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)**

**4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)**

**Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags COURSE BOOKS All students should have a copy of each of the following:**

**The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk**

**A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot**

**Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling**

**A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emetic Switch**

**One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore**

**Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger**

**Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander**

**The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble**

**OTHER EQUIPMENT**

**wand cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)**

**set glass or crystal phials telescope set**

**brass scales**

**Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad**

**PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS**

"So many rules..." Jack sighed. He folded the paper and put it inside his Jacket.

He began heading for the Madam Malkin's shop, pondering where to go next.

Bells on the door of the store announced the newcomer; he saw Madam Malkin, witch wearing purple cloths of many shades.

"Hogwarts dear? You can go stand over there on the footstool; I'll be there shortly."

Jack walked down to the direction where she pointed; another boy was being fitted down by another worker in the store.

"Malfoy." He grinned.

Boy with pale face turned his head in his direction, with a grimace to boot.

"Black."

"So," Jack muttered while Madam Malkin pined him down, "How's your day?"

"Not bad. My parents decided to separate ways, each buying supplies for me for preparation for Hogwarts."

"Shame. I got to come here alone."

"Really?" Said boy lifted his eyebrows. "You know, I never saw much of your parents. In fact I don't even know how they look like."

"You know my parents. Always staying home."

"I see..." Draco loosened his eyebrows a little.

"So, about the weather-"

"Are you going to go into Slytherin?" Draco suddenly asked.

Jack cocked his head, staring at his friend sideways.

"Will it matter if I don't?"

"It will matter! We grew up together, we played together! Do you not remember those times? it does matter greatly whether you will go into Slytherin or not!"

"I remember the fact that we both have opinions that are drastically different. I think. I feel. I do not follow my elders' opinions like you do."

Draco stared at Jack, his eyes blazing fire.

"You do realize that you are becoming one of my enemies." It was not a question, rather a statement.

"I do realize that you will see how right I am someday."

The Slytherin turned on his heels and left the store.

Jack watched him leave with coolness in his eyes.

* * *

Carrying his fresh robes, he stood still to decide where to buy next. Books he decided. He promptly left to the direction of the store. Flourish and Blotts smelled good as ever, with the fresh books inside neatly arranged shelves.

He began picking out books from the shelves according to his supply list. Murmuring the list of books he needed, he suddenly noticed the books layed neatly on the side table. It was a collection of Books and the Subject of Dark Arts.

The helper of the store, noticing what he was staring at, began to head for the student.

"Hello. Are you interested in buying any of those books?"

Jack was still staring at the books' titles... Curses and Counter-curses... Moste Potente Potions... "No thank you. I would like to buy these books though." He held his books listed in his supplies and headed toward the counter.

Jack bought various things on his trip to the Diagon Alley; nice set of Cauldrons, weight scales, Owl, etc. He had almost bought everything on his list...

Except for wand.

He looked into the end of the road and saw the distinct store with a sign:

Olivander's Wands Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.

His insides filling with excitement, he headed towards the shop.

* * *

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. Instantly Jack noticed the difference between the atmosphere inside the shop and the outside of the shop... He instantly felt chills going down on his spines...

"Hello."

He turned and saw the infamous wandmaker. His eyes shining like a moon with wild hair.

"Jack Black I presume?" He stood beside the long linings of wands on the shelves. "Yes, I knew I would see you soon."

"Have we met before?"

Olivander gave a mysterious smile, picking up a measuring tape.

"Hold out your wand arm... That's it."

The tape began to measure the parts of his body while Olivander spoke.

"Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Black. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."

"Hmm... This will do. Hawthorn and Unicorn hair, Ten inches. Reasonably springy. Try it."

Jack raised and made swooshing motions, but to be taken by Mr. Olivander again.

"No no- try this one. Birch and Dragon Heartstring. Eleven inches. A bit unyielding; try that one."

He barely raised it when Olivander took it back again.

On and on this sequence would go, wands piling high up to the sky. the smile on the man face grew bigger as he gave Jack more wands to try.

After about a score of wands, Mr. Olivander came to an halt. He was practically beaming.

"There are very few wizards who have forced me to use one of my... old wands. Mainly with more wand cores..." he muttered while he used his chair for support to reach the higher shelves.

"Yes... yes. Try this one. Made very long time ago- Apple and Kelpie Hair. Ten and a half inches. Slightly springy. Try it."

Jack raised his hands, and he swished the wand down.

A spark of colors came out from the wand.

"Bravo! Bravo indeed... Never would I have expected that someone would take this wand one day..." He smiled as he shook his hand. "Now listen to me... That wand you are holding are of great age... In fact one of the first wands I made. None of the customers were able to do something with that particular wand... I want you to treat it with great care. It would be a real shame if it were to break."

Jack had paid 10 galleons for that wand. Olivander bowed from the shop when he left.


	3. The Train

Jack stretched back while he was sitting in a chair inside his home. Tomorrow, he would be going to Platform Nine and three-quarters. King's Cross.

His major concern was Kreacher. He would be in this house, all alone. 80% of the house was dirty; he only cleaned the living room, kitchen, and his room. Rest of the house was filled with dust containing Dark Objects Lord knows what. He didn't dare try to get rid of any of them; One, those objects contained Dark Magic made to majorly cripple people who tried to handle them. Two, Kreacher considered them a great value, as most of those objects were of family heirloom.

Kreacher was not in happy mood. His master's presence would be empty inside the house for approximately 180 days, if you ignored Christmas break.

Jack once considered selling some of them to Borgin, who was a seller and professional at handling dark arts; surely Kreacher wouldn't mind some of those objects being sold. Besides he had no interest in them. However he had to admit that drinking from 8th century Silver Goblet that was inscribed with Black family crest was something he did not want to sell. He mind was filled with emotions; he was excited that he was finally going to Hogwarts in order to learn magic, and on the other hand he was worried about his house and Kreacher.

Well, he had whole day to think about it.

* * *

Here he was. King's Cross Platform Nine and three-quarters with all its glory. He was inspecting what those muggles wore; bizarre but useful and interesting stuff muggles came up with.

"Well, there you are, boy. Platform nine - platform ten. Your platform should be somewhere in the middle, but they don't seem to have built it yet, do they?"

He turned around and to his surprise, he saw a very fat man and a young scrawny boy next to him, his trunk on the cart.

_Wait a minute..._

The young boy had a scar on his forehead. He had glasses on. He was most likely searching for Platform Nine and three-quarters.

_No way._

Frowning, he headed toward him. The fat man left laughing to his car. The boy - supposedly Harry Potter - looked around, apprehensive. He tapped the boy's shoulder. He whipped around.

"Harry Potter?"

He seemed startled that someone knew his name. After a moment he regained focus and asked back:

"Are you a Wizard?"

"Well, I am wearing a robe."

Relief washed over his face.

"Phew, thought I was lost here. I have no idea how to get to the Platform..."

"Oh, its real easy. Opp, here comes another set of Wizards."

He turned around and saw a plump woman with four boys, all with red hair.

"Hello Mrs. Weasley."

"Oh hello Jack! What a wonderful surprise! Here, I was just leading my kids to the Platform..."

"Well Harry, they'll tell you what to do. See you in train."

He started to walk forward; walking confidently into the barrier between ten and nine; and he disappeared.

Platform Nine and three-quarters were packed with people; Cats of all colors going around, owls hooting to each other, Trunks scraping the floor. Walking by the train, he began to look for empty compartment; he came here late, thanks to the fact that he overslept. Almost all compartment were filled chattering students and gossiping girls.

Hearing the glass door sliding open, Harry looked up and saw the same guy he met on the Platform walk in, heaving his trunk with him. He almost stood up to help.

"Thanks, but no thanks; I can manage the trunk by myself." Jack muttered while heaving his trunk inside and putting it on one of the corners of the compartment and sitting down.

The compartment door slid open again.

"Anybody sitting here?" Ron Weasley asked. "Everywhere else is full."

"Nope." Jack replied. "You can sit here too."

"Hey Ron,"

The twins came back.

"Listen, we're going down the middle of the train - Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there."

"Right," mumbled Ron.

"Harry," said the other twin, "did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother. See you-"

They noticed Jack. they began to smirk.

"Too bad Jack. We already went to Hogwarts once and they are beginning to call us Troublemakers in Chief."

"Oh Yeah? Well go back and tell them that you are history; because Royal King Black is entering the Castle."

They laughed and left the compartment.

"I show them." He muttered while smiling. "Those professors are sure in for a surprise."

"Are you really Harry Potter?" asked Ron.

Harry nodded.

"Oh -well, I thought it might be one of Fred and George's jokes," said Ron. "And have you really got - you know..."

He pointed at Harry's forehead. Harry pulled back his bangs to show the lightning scar

"So that's where You-Know-Who-"

"Yes," said Harry, "but I can't remember it."

"Nothing?" said Ron eagerly.

"Well - I remember a lot of green light, but nothing else."

"Wow," said Ron. He sat and stared at Harry for a few moments, then, as though he had suddenly realized what he was doing, he looked quickly out of the window again.

"Are all your family wizards?" asked Harry, who found Ron just as interesting as Ron found him.

"Er - Yes, I think so," said Ron.

"Think so? Bro, waddya mean "think so"?" Jack interrupted. "I mean you can't possibly be ignorant of the fact whether your family members are wizards or not."

"Well," continued Ron, "I think Mom's got a second cousin who's an accountant, but we never talk about him."

"So you must know loads of magic already." Harry continued.

"I heard you went to live with Muggles," asked Ron. "What are they like?"

"Horrible - well, not all of them. My aunt and uncle and cousin are, though. Wish I'd had three wizard brothers."

"Dude, your better off having no sibling." Jack replied. "No worries. No getting in trouble due to the fact that your sibling did something. Or, getting bullied around all the time by your older brother."

"Five." Ron continued. For some reason, he was looking gloomy. "I'm the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. You could say I've got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left - Bill was head boy and Charlie was captain of Quidditch. Now Percy's a prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still get really good marks and everyone thinks they're really funny. Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do, it's no big deal, because they did it first. You never get anything new, either, with five brothers. I've got Bill's old robes, Charlie's old wand, and Percy's old rat." Ron reached inside his jacket and pulled out a fat gray rat, which was asleep. "His name's Scabbers and he's useless, he hardly ever wakes up. Percy got an owl from my dad for being made a prefect, but they couldn't aff- I mean, I got Scabbers instead."

Ron's ears went pink. He seemed to think he'd said too much, because he went back to staring out of the window.

"Hey, your parents might not have that much money; but they sure are professional in investment." Jack grinned. "I mean, he has seven children to take care of them when they get old. They might not even have to invest in retirement money." He joked.

They laughed. Ron seemed more cheerful after he heard this.

"Besides," said Harry. "I didn't even know I was rich until a month ago."

Jack raised his eyebrows. "What, you weren't rich until last month? How dreadful. I bet those muggles didn't even give you any birthday presents."

"I didn't know anything until Hagrid told me all about my parents, and Voldemort-"

Ron gasped.

Jack flinched.

"What?" said Harry.

"Dude, don't say his name; bad vibes." Jack muttered.

"You said You-Know-Who's name!" said Ron, sounding both shocked and impressed. "I'd have thought you, of all people -"

"I'm not trying to be brave or anything, saying the name," said Harry, I just never knew you shouldn't. See what I mean? I've got loads to learn... I bet," he added, voicing for the first time something that had been worrying him a lot lately, "I bet I'm the worst in the class."

"Don't bet on it." Jack continued. "Your parents probably got decent grades in school."

While they had been talking, the train had carried them out of London. Now they were speeding past fields full of cows and sheep. They were quiet for a time, watching the fields and lanes flick half past twelve there was a great clattering outside in the corridor and a smiling, dimpled woman slid back their door and said, "Anything off the cart, dears?"

Jack merely grunted.

Ron stared as Harry brought loads of sweets back in to the compartment and tipped it onto an empty seat. Jack, changing his mind, went outside after Harry came in.

"Hello."

"Hello. What do you want to buy?" The women smiled.

"I would like, oh, 20 chocolate frogs."

The lady picked up a box full of chocolate frogs and gave it to Jack.

"Here is 20 frogs; that would be 2 galleons."

After fishing out two gold coins from his pocket, Jack heaved the box of chocolates back into the carpartment.

"They're not really frogs, are they?" He heard Harry ask.

"Nah." Jack came back inside, holding the box. "They're pure chocolate."

"But see what the card is. I'm missing Agrippa." Ron replied.

"What?"

"Oh, of course, you wouldn't know - Chocolate Frogs have cards, inside them, you know, to collect - famous witches and wizards. I've got about five hundred, but I haven't got Agrippa or Ptolemy."

"Have them both." Jack said, and looking at his expression, he replied: "And I ain't trading them." He said without letting Ron speak, smile on his lips. "Cost me arms and legs to get them; Kreacher is my personal assistant in organizing them. But if you have Herpo the Foul, I might reconsider."

"So this is Dumbledore!" exclaimed Harry, examining his card.

"Don't tell me you'd never heard of Dumbledore!" said Ron. "Can I have a frog? I might get Agrippa - thanks."

"He's gone!" Harry examined the now empty picture.

"Well, you can't expect him to hang around all day," said Ron. "He'll be back. No, I've got Morgana again and I've got about six of her... do you want it? You can start collecting."

Ron's eyes strayed to the pile of Chocolate Frogs waiting to be unwrapped.

"Help yourself," said Harry. "But in, you know, the Muggle world, people just stay put in photos."

"Do they? What, they don't move at all?" Ron sounded amazed. "weird!"

"Muggles think people moving in pictures are weird." Jack replied. "Agh, got Uric the Oddball again-"

"You want to be careful with those," Ron warned Harry as he took a look at the Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. "When they say every flavor, they mean every flavor - you know, you get all the ordinary ones like chocolate and peppermint and mar- malade, but then you can get spinach and liver and tripe. George reckons he had a boogerflavored one once." Ron picked up a green bean, looked at it carefully, and bit into a corner.

"Bleaaargh - see? Sprouts."

They had a good time eating the Every Flavor Beans. Harry got toast, coconut, baked bean, strawberry, curry, grass, coffee, sardine, and was even brave enough to nibble the end off a funny gray one Ron wouldn't touch, which turned out to be pepper.

He tried offering Jack one bean when he grunted, "Not interested."

"Jack never ever ate Every Flavor Beans again after he ate a puke flavored one when he was six." Ron whispered.

The countryside now flying past the window was becoming wilder. The neat fields had gone. Now there were woods, twisting rivers, and dark green hills.

There was a knock on the door of their compartment and the round-faced boy Harry had passed on platform nine and threequarters came in. He looked tearful.

"Sorry," he said, "but have you seen a toad at all?"

When they shook their heads, he wailed, "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"

"He'll turn up," said Harry.

"Or you could pretend you never had him." Jack muttered still unwrapping chocolate frog cards.

"Yes," said the boy miserably. "Well, if you see him..."

He left.

"Don't know why he's so bothered," said Ron. "If I'd brought a toad I'd lose it as quick as I could. Mind you, I brought Scabbers, so I can't talk."

The rat was still snoozing on Ron's lap.

"He might have died and you wouldn't know the difference," said Ron in disgust. "I tried to turn him yellow yesterday to make him more interesting, but the spell didn't work. I'll show you, look..."

He rummaged around in his trunk and pulled out a very battered-looking wand. It was chipped in places and something white was glinting at the end.

"Dude... You need a new wand." Jack said, looking at the wand with amazement.

"Unicorn hair's nearly poking out. Anyway I got Charlie's old one, so..." He had just raised his wand when the compartment door slid open again.

The toadless boy was back, but this time he had a girl with him. She was already wearing her new Hogwarts robes.

"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," she said. She had a bossy sort of voice, lots of bushy brown hair, and rather large front teeth. "We've already told him we haven't seen it," said Ron, but the girl wasn't listening, she was looking at the wand in his hand.

"Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it, then."

She sat down. Ron looked taken aback.

"Er - all right."

He cleared his throat.

"Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow."

He waved his wand, but nothing happened. Scabbers stayed gray and fast asleep.

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" said the girl. "Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard - I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough - I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"

She said all this very fast.

"By the way, not a real spell." Jack explained. "There is some unofficial law that all spells have to be Latin or at least sound like one."

Harry looked at Ron, and was relieved to see by his stunned face that he hadn't learned all the course books by heart either.

"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron muttered.

"Harry Potter," said Harry.

"Jack Black." muttered Jack, still unwrapping his frogs.

"Are you really Harry Potter?" said Hermione. "I know all about you, of course - I got a few extra books. for background reading, and you're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century.

"Am I?" said Harry, feeling dazed.

"You were in books when you were still a wee lad." Jack snickered.

"Goodness, didn't you know, I'd have found out everything I could if it was me," said Hermione.

"Of course you would have." Jack whispered.

"Do either of you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad... Anyway, we'd better go and look for Neville's toad. You three had better change, you know, I expect we'll be there soon."

And she left, taking the toadless boy with her.

"Whatever house I'm in, I hope she's not in it," said Ron.

"Now, now Ron." Jack said smirking. "Isn't that a little mean? Of course, I don't think I would be able to stand her either."

He threw his wand back into his trunk. "Stupid spell - George gave it to me, bet he knew it was a dud."

"What house are your brothers in?" asked Harry.

"Gryffindor," said Ron. Gloom seemed to be settling on him again. "Mom and Dad were in it, too. I don't know what they'll say if I'm not. I don't suppose Ravenclaw would be too bad, but imagine if they put me in Slytherin."

"That's the house Vol-, I mean, You-Know-Who was in?"

"Yeah," said Ron. He flopped back into his seat, looking depressed.

"Dude, all my family and ancestors were in Slytherin." Jack said.

Ron didn't bother to hide his amazement. "Wow, and I thought you were alright!"

"Eh, my Uncle was in Gryffindor I think; and it doesn't sound bad either."

"You know, I think the ends of Scabbers' whiskers are a bit lighter," said Harry, trying to take Ron's mind off houses. "So what do your oldest brothers do now that they've left, anyway?"

Harry was wondering what a wizard did once he'd finished school.

"Charlie's in Romania studying dragons, and Bill's in Africa doing something for Gringotts," said Ron.

"Hey, did you hear about the Gringotts?" Jack suddenly asked. "It's breaking news, all over Daily Prophet; Someone tried to rob a high security vault."

"I heard of that." Ron replied."

Harry stared.

"Really? What happened to them?"

"Nothing, that's why it's such big news. They haven't been caught. My dad says it must've been a powerful Dark wizard to get round Gringotts, but they don't think they took anything, that's what's odd. 'Course, everyone gets scared when something like this happens in case You-Know-Who's behind it."

"Someone finally robbed Gringotts and got away with it..." Jack shook his head.

"By the way, what's your Quidditch team?" Ron asked.

"Falmouth Falcons." Jack grinned while replying. "I love their motto. "Let us win, but if we cannot win, let us break a few heads."

"Er - I don't know any," Harry confessed.

"What!" Ron looked dumbfounded. "Oh, you wait, it's the best game in the world -" And he was off, explaining all about the four balls and the positions of the seven players, describing famous games he'd been to with his brothers and the broomstick he'd like to get if he had the money. He was just taking Harry through the finer points of the game when the compartment door slid open yet again, but it wasn't Neville the toadless boy, or Hermione Granger this time.

The three Stooges: Malfoy, Goyle, and Crabbe.

"Is it true?" he said. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"

"Yes."

"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," said the pale boy carelessly, noticing where Harry was looking. "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

Ron gave a slight cough, which might have been hiding a snigger. Draco Malfoy looked at him.

"Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford."

"Well, they seemed to be affording them very well, better than your mom." Jack countered.

After a glare at Jack's direction, he turned back to Harry. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

"Uh, no, bad call." Jack raised his voice. "Don't accept his hands."

He held out his hand to shake Harry's, but Harry didn't take it.

"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," he said coolly.

Draco Malfoy didn't go red, but a pink tinge appeared in his pale cheeks.

"I'd be careful if I were you, Potter," he said slowly. "Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid, and it'll rub off on you."

Harry, Jack and Ron stood up.

"Say that again," Ron said, his face as red as his hair.

"Oh, you're going to fight us, are you?" Malfoy sneered.

"Unless you get out now," said Harry, more bravely than he felt, because Crabbe and Goyle were a lot bigger than them.

"But we don't feet like leaving, do we, boys? We've eaten all our food and you still seem to have some."

Goyle reached toward the Chocolate Frogs next to Ron - Ron leapt forward, but before he'd so much as touched Goyle, Goyle let out a horrible yell.

Scabbers the rat was hanging off his finger, sharp little teeth sunk deep into Goyle's knuckle - Crabbe and Malfoy backed away as Goyle swung Scabbers round and round, howling, and when Scabbets finally flew off and hit the window, all three of them disappeared at once. "Hope you get rabies fat-ass!" Jack shouted.

Perhaps they thought there were more rats lurking among the sweets, or perhaps they'd heard footsteps, because a second later, Hermione Granger had come in.

"What has been going on?" she said, looking at the sweets all over the floor and Ron picking up Scabbers by his tail.

"Your mom." Jack replied.

I think he's been knocked out," Ron said to Harry. He looked closer at Scabbers. "No - I don't believe it - he's gone back to sleep-"

And so he had.

"You've met Malfoy before?"

Harry explained about their meeting in Diagon Alley.

"I've heard of his family," said Ron darkly. "They were some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said they'd been bewitched. My dad doesn't believe it. He says Malfoy's father didn't need an excuse to go over to the Dark Side." He turned to Hermione. "Can we help you with something?"

"You'd better hurry up and put your robes on, I've just been up to the front to ask the conductor, and he says we're nearly there. You haven't been fighting, have you? You'll be in trouble before we even get there!"

"Your mom." Jack countered again.

"Scabbers has been fighting, not us," said Ron, scowling at her. "Would you mind leaving while we change?"

"All right - I only came in here because people outside are behaving very childishly, racing up and down the corridors," said Hermione in a sniffy voice, after a glare at Jack's direction. "And you've got dirt on your nose, by the way, did you know?"

Ron glared at her as she left. Harry peered out of the window. It was getting dark. He could see mountains and forests under a deep purple sky. The train did seem to be slowing down.

They changed their cloths excluding Jack, who already was wearing his robe.

A voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

Harry's stomach lurched with nerves and Ron, he saw, looked pale under his freckles. Jack's eyes shone with excitement.

They crammed their pockets with the last of the sweets and joined the crowd thronging the corridor.

The train slowed right down and finally stopped. People pushed their way toward the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform. Harry shivered in the cold night air. Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and Harry heard a familiar voice: "Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there, Harry?"

Hagrid's big hairy face beamed over the sea of heads.

"C'mon, follow me - any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Harry thought there must be thick trees there. Nobody spoke much. Neville, the boy who kept losing his toad, sniffed once or twice.

"Ye' all get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."

There was a loud "Oooooh!"

The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black take. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Harry and Ron were followed into their boat by Jack and Hermione. "Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. "Right then - FORWARD!" And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

"Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbor, where they clambered out onto rocks and pebbles.

"Oy, you there! Is this your toad?" said Hagrid, who was checking the boats as people climbed out of them.

"Trevor!" cried Neville blissfully, holding out his hands. Then they clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid's lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle. They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, Oak front door.

"Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?"

Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.


	4. The Sorting

The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face and Jack's first thought was that this was a person he needed to get on his side.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

She pulled the door wide. The entrance hall was so big you could have fit small house in it. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors.

They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Jack could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right-the rest of the school must already be here - but Professor McGonagall showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville's cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on Ron's smudged nose. Jack listened with rapt attention.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."

She left the chamber.

"How exactly do they sort us into houses?" Harry asked Ron.

"Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking."

Jack raised his eyebrows. He knew Fred was a clown. But a test?

Then something happened that made him jump about a foot in the air - several people behind him screamed.

"What the- ?"

He's eyes widened. People around him gasped. About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. They seemed to be arguing. What looked like a fat little monk was saying: "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance -"

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost - I say, what are you all doing here?"

A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years.

Nobody answered.

"New students!" said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?"

Jack nodded mutely.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old house, you know."

"My great-great-great grandfather would have a fit." Jack whispered under his breath.

"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.

"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me."

Jack followed behind Harry, who was nervously shuffling towards the Great Hall.

It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver.

Jack looked up and saw a dark sky with stars.

Hermione whisper, "Its bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History."

"And zero Fawkes were given that day." Jack muttered.

Jack quickly zeroed down on the stool where Professor McGonagall stood by. The hat seemed to be of a great age; it was frayed and extreme dirty. There was silence for few seconds, than hat began to sing:

**"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,**

**But don't judge on what you see,**

**I'll eat myself if you can find A smarter hat than me.**

**You can keep your bowlers black,**

**Your top hats sleek and tall,**

**For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat And I can cap them all.**

**There's nothing hidden in your head The Sorting Hat can't see,**

**So try me on and I will tell you Where you ought to be.**

**You might belong in Gryffindor,**

**Where dwell the brave at heart,**

**Their daring, nerve, and chivalry Set Gryffindors apart;**

**You might belong in Hufflepuff,**

**Where they are just and loyal,**

**Those patient Hufflepuffis are true And unafraid of toil;**

**Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,**

**if you've a ready mind,**

**Where those of wit and learning,**

**Will always find their kind;**

**Or perhaps in Slytherin You'll make your real friends,**

**Those cunning folk use any means To achieve their ends.**

**So put me on! Don't be afraid!**

**And don't get in a flap!**

**You're in safe hands (though I have none)**

**For I'm a Thinking Cap!"**

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.

"So we've just got to try on the hat!" Ron whispered to Harry. "I'll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll."

"Fred wouldn't be able to wrestle a troll for his life." Jack whispered.

Jack was surprised that they expected them to wear the thing on their heads.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moments pause - "HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. Harry saw the ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her.

"Black, Jack!"

Jack walked over tot he stool and sat, wearing the hat.

"...Hmm, yes, another anomaly. Your whole blood-related ones went to Slytherin you know- oh, except for your uncle I remember... mind is not bad, your humor shines with cleverness... little bit of slyness included... a fierce loyalty... Oh, great courage! A rebel... How about Ravenclaw?"

Jack furrowed his eyebrows in thought. He wished to be in Gryffindor.

"Are you sure? You will succeed greatly being a Ravenclaw... oh well, if you insist. GRYFFINDOR!"

The table on the far left exploded with cheers; Harry could see Ron's twin brothers catcalling. Jack went up and joined them at the table. "Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.

"Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them.

"Brocklehurst, Mandy" went to Ravenclaw too, but "Brown, Lavender" became the second Gryffindor.

"Bulstrode, Millicent" then became a Slytherin. Jack started to see why they called Slytherin the bad ones. People who were sorted there definitely looked like some arrogant toerags.

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Finnigan, Seamus," the sandy-haired boy next to Harry in the line, sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor.

"Granger, Hermione!"

Hermione almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head.

"GRYFFINDOR!" shouted the hat. Ron groaned.

Harry, Jack noticed, looked like he was about have a nervous breakdown.

When Neville Longbottom, the boy who kept losing his toad, was called, he fell over on his way to the stool. The hat took a long time to decide with Neville. When it finally shouted, "GRYFFINDOR," Neville ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to "MacDougal, Morag."

Malfoy swaggered forward when his name was called and got his wish at once: the hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!"

Malfoy went to join his friends Crabbe and Goyle, looking pleased with himself.

There weren't many people left now. "Moon" "Nott" "Parkinson" then a pair of twin girls, "Patil" and "Patil" then "Perks, Sally-Anne" and then, at last - "Potter, Harry!"

As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

"Potter, did she say?"

The Harry Potter?"

Harry went over to the hat and wore it, sitting on the stool.'

Hat took a long time until it yelled-

"GRYFFINDOR!"

He took off the hat and walked shakily toward the Gryffindor table. He was getting the loudest cheer yet. Percy the Prefect got up and shook his hand vigorously, while the Weasley twins yelled, "We got Potter! We got Potter!" Harry sat down opposite the ghost in the ruff he'd seen earlier. The ghost patted his arm.

And now there were only three people left to be sorted. "Thomas, Dean," a Black boy even taller than Ron, joined Harry at the Gryffindor table. "Turpin, Lisa," became a Ravenclaw and then it was Ron's turn. He was pale green by now. A second later the hat had shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Jack clapped loudly with the rest as Ron collapsed into the chair next to him.

"Well done, Ron, excellent," said Percy Weasley Pompously across Harry as "Zabini, Blaise," was made a Slytherin. Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away.

Jack looked down on his gold plate, remember how starved he was.

"Welcome," he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! "Thank you!"

He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered. jack laughed hearty.

"Is he - a bit mad?" Harry asked Percy uncertainly.

"Mad?" said Percy airily. "He's a genius! Best wizard in the world! But he is a bit mad, yes. Potatoes, Harry?"

Jack's eyes glowed with excitement. The dishes in front of him were now piled with food. He had never seen so many things he liked to eat on one table: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and, for some strange reason, peppermint humbugs.

Jack began to shovel the food down on his plate and ate.

He was reminded how Napoleon the 3rd served lesser Guests and Dukes on Gold Plate, and Most important Guests on Aluminium; Aluminum was not exactly rare, but the method of turning ore into aluminum was expensive.

"That does look good," said the ghost in the ruff sadly, watching Harry cut up his steak,

"Can't you- ?" Harry began to ask.

I haven't eaten for nearly four hundred years," said the ghost. "I don't need to, of course, but one does miss it. I don't think I've introduced myself? Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service. Resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower."

"I know who you are!" said Ron suddenly. "My brothers told me about you - you're Nearly Headless Nick!"

"I would prefer you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy -" the ghost began stiffly, but sandy-haired Seamus Finnigan interrupted.

"Nearly Headless? How can you be nearly headless?"

Sir Nicholas looked extremely miffed, as if their little chat wasn't going at all the way he wanted. "Like this," he said irritably. He seized his left ear and pulled. His whole head swung off his neck and fell onto his shoulder as if it was on a hinge. Someone had obviously tried to behead him, but not done it properly. Looking pleased at the stunned looks on their faces, Nearly Headless Nick flipped his head back onto his neck, coughed, and said, "So - new Gryffindors! I hope you're going to help us win the house championship this year? Gryffindors have never gone so long without winning. Slytherins have got the cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron's becoming almost unbearable - he's the Slytherin ghost." Harry looked over at the Slytherin table and saw a horrible ghost sitting there, with blank staring eyes, a gaunt face, and robes stained with silver blood. He was right next to Malfoy who, Jack was pleased to see, didn't look too pleased with the seating arrangements.

"How did he get covered in blood?" asked Seamus with great interest.

"I've never asked," said Nearly Headless Nick delicately.

"Well go ask him!" Jack replied.

When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of the food faded from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean as before. A moment later the desserts appeared. Blocks of ice cream in every flavor you could think of, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate eclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, Jell-O, rice pudding - " As Jack began to eat chocolate eclair, the talk turned to their families.

"I'm half-and-half," said Seamus. "Me dad's a Muggle. Mom didn't tell him she was a witch 'til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him."

The others laughed.

"What about you, Neville?" said Ron.

"Well, my gran brought me up and she's a witch," said Neville, "but the family thought I was all- Muggle for ages. My Great Uncle Algie kept trying to catch me off my guard and force some magic out of me - he pushed me off the end of Blackpool pier once, I nearly drowned - but nothing happened until I was eight. Great Uncle Algie came round for dinner, and he was hanging me out of an upstairs window by the ankles when my Great Auntie Enid offered him a meringue and he accidentally let go. But I bounced - all the way down the garden and into the road. They were all really pleased, Gran was crying, she was so happy. And you should have seen their faces when I got in here - they thought I might not be magic enough to come, you see. Great Uncle Algie was so pleased he bought me my toad."

"My entire family was in Slytherin; except for me and my uncle. You could image their fury when my uncle went into Gryffindor." Jack said while helping himself some ice-cream.

On Harry's other side, Percy Weasley and Hermione were talking about lessons ("I do hope they start right away, there's so much to learn, I'm particularly interested in Transfiguration, you know, turning something into something else, of course, it's supposed to be very difficult-"; "You'll be starting small, just matches into needles and that sort of thing - ").

Jack elbowed Harry. "Those two squares; looks like they'll be getting along fine, eh?" He whispered.

"Ouch!" Harry clapped a hand to his head.

"What is it?" asked Percy.

"N-nothing. Who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?" he asked Percy.

"Oh, you know Quirrell already, do you? No wonder he's looking so nervous, that's Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but he doesn't want to - everyone knows he's after Quirrell's job. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape."

"He is also known as a dungeon bat." Jack smirked. "He broods and roams around this castle, giving detentions left and right.

At last, the desserts too disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell silent.

"Ahem - just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins.

"He has stars embedded in his eyes." Jack whispered.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch."

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Jack laughed, but he was one of the few who did.

"I must go there and check it out... Wanna come Harry?" Jack whispered.

"He's not serious?" Harry muttered to Percy.

"Must be," said Percy, frowning at Dumbledore. "It's odd, because he usually gives us a reason why we're not allowed to go somewhere - the forest's full of dangerous beasts, everyone knows that. I do think he might have told us prefects, at least."

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. Harry noticed that the other teachers' smiles had become rather fixed. Jack began to smile.

Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words.

"Everyone pick their favorite tune," said Dumbledore, "and off we go!"

And the school bellowed:

_"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,_

_Teach us something please,_

_Whether we be old and bald Or young with scabby knees,_

_Our heads could do with filling With some interesting stuff,_

_For now they're bare and full of air,_

_Dead flies and bits of fluff,_

_So teach us things worth knowing,_

_Bring back what we've forgot,_

_just do your best, we'll do the rest,_

_And learn until our brains all rot!_

Everybody finished the song at different times. At last, only the Weasley twins were left singing along to a very slow funeral march.

Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand and when they had finished, he was one of those who clapped loudest.

"Ah, music," he said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!

The Gryffindor first years followed Percy through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase. Jack's legs were like lead.

They climbed more staircases, yawning and dragging their feet, and they came to a sudden halt.

A bundle of walking sticks was floating in midair ahead of them, and as Percy took a step toward them they started throwing themselves at him. "Peeves," Percy whispered to the first years. "A poltergeist." He raised his voice, "Peeves - show yourself."

A loud, rude sound, like the air being let out of a balloon, answered.

"Do you want me to go to the Bloody Baron?"

There was a pop, and a little man with wicked, dark eyes and a wide mouth appeared, floating cross- legged in the air, clutching the walking sticks.

"Oooooooh!" he said, with an evil cackle. "Ickle Firsties! What fun!"

He swooped suddenly at them. They all ducked.

"Go away, Peeves, or the Baron'll hear about this, I mean it!" barked Percy.

Peeves stuck out his tongue and vanished, dropping the walking sticks on Neville's head. They heard him zooming away, rattling coats of armor as he passed.

"You want to watch out for Peeves," said Percy, as they set off again. "The Bloody Baron's the only one who can control him, he won't even listen to us prefects. Here we are."

At the very end of the corridor hung a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress.

"Is her name Fast Break?" Jack asked.

Percy frowned. "No, her name is Fat Lady. Why do you ask?"

Jack smirked. "Well, it seems that she has broken quite a few fasts in her day."

Students laughed.

"Password?" she said. "Caput Draconis," said Percy, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. They all scrambled through it - Neville needed a leg up - and found themselves in the Gryffindor common room, a cozy, round room full of squashy armchairs.

"Sweet." Jack muttered.

Percy directed the girls through one door to their dormitory and the boys through another. At the top of a spiral staircase - they were obviously in one of the towers - they found their beds at last: five four-posters hung with deep red, velvet curtains. Their trunks had already been brought up. Too tired to talk much, they pulled on their pajamas and fell into bed.

"Great food, isn't it?" Ron asked them through the hangings. "Get off, Scabbers! He's chewing my sheets."

Jack lay down, and in couple of minutes, he was fast asleep.


	5. The Map

"There, look."

"Where?"

"Next to the tall kid with the red hair."

"Wearing the glasses?"

"Did you see his face?"

"Did you see his scar?"

Whispers followed Harry from the moment he left his dormitory the next day. People lining up outside classrooms stood on tiptoe to get a look at him, or doubled back to pass him in the corridors again, staring.

Jack muttered under his breath about people and time and nosy and business.

Out of millions of staircases tons of them spinning around and about. Doors that had personalities. Ghosts gliding everywhere, and suit of Armors that could walk. Jack loved this place.

Filch managed to get Harry and Ron in trouble on the first morning, with their horrid luck and all; Filch caught them trying to open the door to the forbidden corridor of the third floor. He wouldn't believe they were lost, was sure they were trying to break into it on purpose, and was threatening to lock them in the dungeons when they were rescued by Professor Quirrell, who was passing. Jack said the whole experience was worth a good laugh.

Filch owned a cat called Mrs. Norris, a scrawny, dust-colored creature with bulging, lamp like eyes just like Filch's. She patrolled the corridors alone. Break a rule in front of her, put just one toe out of line, and she'd whisk off for Filch, who'd appear, wheezing, two seconds later. Filch knew the secret passageways of the school better than anyone (except perhaps the Weasley twins) and could pop up as suddenly as any of the ghosts. The students all hated him, and it was the dearest ambition of many to give Mrs. Norris a good kick.

That was the cardinal vow that Jack took.

And then, once you had managed to find them, there were the classes themselves. There was a lot more to magic than waving your wand and saying a few funny words. They had to study the night skies through their telescopes every Wednesday at midnight and learn the names of different stars and the movements of the planets. Three times a week they went out to the greenhouses behind the castle to study Herbology, with a dumpy little witch called Professor Sprout, where they learned how to take care of all the strange plants and fungi, and found out what they were used for. Jack thought that it was hilarious to tease the Devil's Snare until Professor Sprout irritatingly told him off. Easily the most boring class was History of Magic, which was the only one taught by a ghost. Professor Binns had been very old indeed when he had fallen asleep in front of the staff room fire and got up next morning to teach, leaving his body behind him. Binns droned on and on while they scribbled down names and dates, and got Emeric the Evil and Uric the Oddball mixed up.

Very, very oddly, Jack found new obsession with History of Magic; he always loved reading history books when he was little.

"How the hell do you mix up Uric and Emeric?" Jack asked in frustration, after the entire class save him and Hermione confused those two figures.

Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was a tiny little wizard who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. At the start of their first class he took the roll call, and when he reached Harry's name he gave an excited squeak and toppled out of sight.

"You know what Flitwick reminds me of?" Jack asked Harry.

"No idea." Harry replied.

"That clown mascot of McDonald."

Professor McGonagall was again different. Strict and clever, she gave them a talking-to the moment they sat down in her first class.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned." Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again. They were all very impressed and couldn't wait to get started, but soon realized they weren't going to be changing the furniture into animals for a long time.

After taking a lot of complicated notes, they were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle. By the end of the lesson, only Hermione Granger had made any difference to her match; Professor McGonagall showed the class how it had gone all silver and pointy and gave Hermione a rare smile.

Although Jack knew that Transfiguration was important branch of magic, however he couldn't help but be disgruntled when his match did not change.

The class everyone had really been looking forward to was Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Quirrell's lessons turned out to be a bit of a joke. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was to ward off a vampire he'd met in Romania and was afraid would be coming back to get him one of these days. His turban, he told them, had been given to him by an African prince as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but they weren't sure they believed this story. For one thing, when Seamus Finnigan asked eagerly to hear how Quirrell had fought off the zombie, Quirrell went pink and started talking about the weather; for another, they had noticed that a funny smell hung around the turban, and the Weasley twins insisted that it was stuffed full of garlic as well, so that Quirrell was protected wherever he went.

Jack insisted that even Quirrell was not mad enough to carry around garlic everywhere.

Only Hermione Granger seemed to be able at the tasks given to them.

* * *

Today was a good day; they finally managed to find their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast without getting lost once.

"What have we got today?" Harry asked Ron as he poured sugar on his porridge.

"Double Potions with the Slytherins," said Ron. "Snape's Head of Slytherin House. They say he always favors them - we'll be able to see if it's true."

"Wish McGonagall favored us, " said Harry. Professor McGonagall was head of Gryffindor House, but it hadn't stopped her from giving them a huge pile of homework the day before.

Just then, the mail arrived. About a hundred owls had suddenly streamed into the Great Hall during breakfast, circling the tables until they saw their owners, and dropping letters and packages onto their laps.

Paul (The Owl) did not bring Jack anything yet; sometimes he stayed for bits of bacon.

Hedwig fluttered down between the marmalade and the sugar bowl and dropped a note onto Harry's plate. Harry tore it open and when he saw the message, he scribbled a reply on the back of the note and sent it out again.

During that Double Potion, Jack also found another subject he was good at.

He always knew that he was good at cooking.

Harry seemed to know that fact that Snape disliked him; but what he didn't know was that he hated him.

Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder here than up in the main castle, and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls. Snape, like Flitwick, started the class by taking the roll call, and like Flitwick, he paused at Harry's name.

"Ah, Yes," he said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new - celebrity."

Draco Malfoy and his friends Crabbe and Goyle sniggered behind their hands. Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His eyes were black and they were cold and empty and made you think of dark tunnels.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word - like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

More silence followed this little speech. Harry and Ron exchanged looks with raised eyebrows. Hermione Granger was on the edge of her seat and looked desperate to start proving that she wasn't a dunderhead. Jack caught Snape's every word like it was his lifeline.

"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Powdered root of what to an infusion of what? Harry glanced at Ron, who looked as stumped as he was; Hermione's hand had shot into the air.

"I don't know, sir," said Harry.

Snape's lips curled into a sneer.

"Tut, tut - fame clearly isn't everything."

He ignored Hermione's hand.

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Hermione stretched her hand as high into the air as it would go without her leaving her seat, but Harry didn't have the faintest idea what a bezoar was. He tried not to look at Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who were shaking with laughter.

Jack began to lazily raise his hand.

"I don't know, sir."

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?"

Harry forced himself to keep looking straight into those cold eyes. He had looked through his books at the Dursleys', but did Snape expect him to remember everything in One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi?

Snape was still ignoring Hermione's quivering hand, Nor Jack's slack one.

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

At this, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching toward the dungeon ceiling.

Jack put his hand down, getting the hint.

"I don't know," said Harry quietly. "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?"

A few people laughed; Harry caught Seamus's eye, and Seamus winked.

Snape, however, was not pleased.

"Sit down," he snapped at Hermione. "For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"

There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment. Over the noise, Snape said, "And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter."

Hissing noise broke Jack's concentration over his potion; Neville had somehow managed to melt Seamus's cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes. Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools while Neville, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.

"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Neville whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose. "Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Seamus. Then he rounded on Harry and Ron, who had been working next to Neville. "You - Potter - why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor."

This was so unfair that Harry opened his mouth to argue, but Ron kicked him behind their cauldron.

As they climbed the steps out of the dungeon an hour later, Harry seemed devastated and confused.

"Cheer up," said Ron, "Snape's always taking points off Fred and George. Can I come and meet Hagrid with you?"

"Oh, you are meeting Hagrid?"

"Yeah, we got note from him today; wanna come?"

"Thanks, but no thanks." Jack had other plans.

At five to three they left the castle and made their way across the grounds. Jack saw them leave, than he turned back.

It was true that he had things to do; Weasley Twins were a year ahead of him on knowledge of the school. He had to catch up. He had to know entire secret passage-ways, secret chambers... all the secret privy stuff this school contained...

And he only had 7 years to do it.

* * *

He was walking along when he saw The Caretaker's office when he noticed that its doors were open, with no one inside. Look to make sure there was no one in vicinity, he tip-toed in.

It was a small, simple room with a single oil lamp hanging from the ceiling. It smells vaguely of fried fish. There were filing cabinets in it with details of the misdeeds of Hogwarts Students.

Jack was looking around when he saw the cabinet labeled: "Confiscated and Highly Dangerous."

He grinned. He loved dangerous objects.

He immediately began searching in there when a parchment caught his eye.

Jack wondered why on earth a parchment was doing in Confiscated and Highly Dangerous Section.

...Couldn't hurt to play with it a little. Sometimes the most innocent looking objects were the most dangerous.

Than he heard a distant sound-

"Come along my sweets... I must take something out of my office."

Jack widened his eyes. If he was discovered, his parchment would be confiscated again. Normally he wouldn't mind getting in trouble, however he held something special - or at least he suspected to be special - with him.

...How did that spell go again?

_"Calamitatis."_ Jack wishpered as he twirlled his wand around himself.

Nothing hapenned.

Meanwhile, the sounds were getting closer.

_"Calamitatis." _Jack furiously wispered, twirlling his wand around himself again. No effect.

_"Calamitatis, Calamitatis, Calamitatis!"_

The door opened with a bang, much to Jack's horror, but Filch was not noticing him... Why wasn't he already looking directly at him? Shouldn't he have noticed him by now?

He stared at his own arms, jumping when there was nothing there.

Filch suddenly turned around looking straight at the spot he was located. Jack cursed under his breath; moving made camouflage less effective.

Slowly turning back to his cabinet, Filch began to rummage through his items. "Where is that thing; oh there it is... Here we go. Come along my cat..."

He went out of the office.

Jack relaxed. He gave a wolfish grin. That was one of the closest shave he had in a while.

He should really return. It was getting late.


	6. The Beast

Jack never knew how annoying Slytherins could be. It was only the first week at Hogwarts and he couldn't stand them. Still, first-year Gryffindors only had Potions with the Slytherins, so they didn't have to put up with Malfoy much. Or at least, they didn't until they spotted a notice pinned up in the Gryffindor common room that made them all groan.

Flying lessons would be starting on Thursday - and Gryffindor and Slytherin would be learning together.

"Typical," said Harry darkly. "Just what I always wanted. To make a fool of myself on a broomstick in front of Malfoy."

Harry had been looking forward to learning to fly more than anything else.

"You don't know that you'll make a fool of yourself," said Ron reasonably. "Anyway, I know Malfoy's always going on about how good he is at Quidditch, but I bet that's all talk."

"Perhaps Malfoys were rich enough to buy an extra broom for Draco." Jack suggested, crease in his forehead.

Malfay certainly did talk about flying a lot. He complained loudly about first years never getting on the house Quidditch teams and told long, boastful stories that always seemed to end with him narrowly escaping Muggles in helicopters.

He wasn't the only one, though: the way Seamus Finnigan told it, he'd spent most of his childhood zooming around the countryside on his broomstick. Even Ron would tell anyone who'd listen about the time he'd almost hit a hang glider on Charlie's old broom.

Everyone from wizarding families talked about Quidditch constantly. Ron had already had a big argument with Dean Thomas, who shared their dormitory, about soccer. Ron couldn't see what was exciting about a game with only one ball where no one was allowed to fly. Ron was constantly prodding Dean's poster of West Ham soccer team, trying to make the players move.

Neville had never been on a broomstick in his life, because his grandmother had never let him near one. Privately, Harry felt she'd had good reason, because Neville managed to have an extraordinary number of accidents even with both feet on the ground.

Hermione Granger was almost as nervous about flying as Neville was. This was something you couldn't learn by heart out of a book - not that she hadn't tried. At breakfast on Thursday she bored them all stupid with flying tips she'd gotten out of a library book called Quidditch Through the Ages. Neville was hanging on to her every word, desperate for anything that might help him hang on to his broomstick later, but everybody else was very pleased when Hermione's lecture was interrupted by the arrival of the mail.

Jack still had not mail from Paul; however he was not surprised.

A barn owl brought Neville a small package from his grandmother. He opened it excitedly and showed them a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke. "It's a Remembrall!" he explained. "Gran knows I forget things - this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red - oh..." His face fell, because the Remembrall had suddenly glowed scarlet.

"You've forgotten something..."

"Perhaps you forgot to chuck it in the dustbin, because it's useless." Jack observed. "It never tells you what you forgot; you're basically shooting in the dark."

Neville was trying to remember what he'd forgotten when Draco Malfoy, who was passing the Gryffindor table, snatched the Remembrall out of his hand.

Harry and Ron jumped to their feet. They were half hoping for a reason to fight Malfay, but Professor McGonagall, who could spot trouble quicker than any teacher in the school, was there in a flash.

"What's going on?"

"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor."

Scowling, Malfoy quickly dropped the Remembrall back on the table.

"Just looking," he said, and he sloped away with Crabbe and Goyle behind him.

At three-thirty that afternoon, Harry, Ron, Jack, and the other Gryffindors hurried down the front steps onto the grounds for their first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance.

The Slytherins were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. Harry and Jack had heard Fred and George Weasley complain about the school brooms, saying that some of them started to vibrate if you flew too high, or always flew slightly to the left.

Their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

"For a hooch, she has masculine voice." Jack muttered under his breath.

Jack inspected his broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!"'

"UP!" everyone shouted.

Jack's broom jumped into his hand at once, but it was one of the few that did. Hermione Granger's had simply rolled over on the ground, Harry got the broom in his hands, and Neville's hadn't moved at all.

Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips.

Harry, Ron and Jack were delighted when she told Malfoy he'd been doing it wrong for years.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle - three - two -"

But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.

"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle - twelve feet - twenty feet. Harry saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom and - WHAM - a thud and a nasty crack and Neville lay facedown on the grass in a heap.

Jack grimaced when he heard him fell. Others gasped and closed their eyes.

Neville's broomstick was still rising higher and higher, and started to drift lazily toward the forbidden forest and out of sight.

Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his.

"Broken wrist," Harry heard her mutter. "Come on, boy - it's all right, up you get.".

She turned to the rest of the class.

"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear."

Neville, his face tear-streaked, clutching his wrist, hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around him.

No sooner were they out of earshot than Malfoy burst into laughter.

"Did you see his face, the great lump?"

The other Slytherins joined in.

"Your face." Jack shouted.

"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Parvati Patil.

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy Parkinson, a hard-faced Slytherin girl. "Never thought you'd like fat little crybabies, Parvati."

"Look who's talking." Jack retorted.

"Look!" said Malfoy, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."

The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up.

"Give that here, Malfoy," said Harry quietly. Everyone stopped talking

to watch.

Malfoy smiled nastily.

"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find - how about - up a tree?"

"Give it here!" Harry yelled, but Malfoy had leapt onto his broomstick and taken off. He hadn't been lying, he could fly well. Hovering level

with the topmost branches of an oak he called, "Come and get it, Potter!"

Harry grabbed his broom.

"No!" shouted Hermione Granger. "Madam Hooch told us not to move - you'll get us all into trouble."

"Shut up."

Harry ignored her. Blood was pounding in his ears. He mounted the broom and kicked hard against the ground and up, up he soared; air rushed through his hair, and his robes whipped out behind him -and in a rush of fierce joy he realized he'd found something he could do without being taught - this was easy, this was wonderful. He pulled his broomstick up a little to take it even higher, and heard screams and gasps of girls back on the ground and an admiring whoop from Ron.

He turned his broomstick sharply to face Malfoy in midair. Malfoy looked stunned.

"Give it here," Harry called, "or I'll knock you off that broom!"

"Oh, yeah?" said Malfoy, trying to sneer, but looking worried.

Harry knew, somehow, what to do. He leaned forward and grasped the broom tightly in both hands, and it shot toward Malfay like a javelin. Malfoy only just got out of the way in time; Harry made a sharp about-face and held the broom steady. A few people below were clapping.

"No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy," Harry called.

The same thought seemed to have struck Malfoy.

"Catch it if you can, then!" he shouted, and he threw the glass ball high into the air and streaked back toward the ground.

Harry saw, as though in slow motion, the ball rise up in the air and then start to fall. He leaned forward and pointed his broom handle down - next second he was gathering speed in a steep dive, racing the ball - wind whistled in his ears, mingled with the screams of people watching - he stretched out his hand - a foot from the ground he caught it, just in time to pull his broom straight, and he toppled gently onto the grass with the Remembrall clutched safely in his fist.

"HARRY POTTER!"

His heart sank faster than he'd just dived. Professor McGonagall was running toward them. He got to his feet, trembling.

"Never - in all my time at Hogwarts -

" Professor McGonagall was almost speechless with shock, and her glasses

flashed furiously, "- how dare you - might have broken your neck -"

"It wasn't his fault, Professor -"

"Be quiet, Miss Patil."

"But Malfoy -"

"That's enough, Mr. Weasley. Potter, follow me, now."

Malfoy and his goons were laughing.

Jack wanted to punch them in the face, however he tried to restrain. It would do no good if he also got in trouble.

"Looks like Potter is going to get expelled. Told him he would meet the sticky end as his-"

He couldn't.

_"Flagrante!"_

A fiery spark flew front he wand leaving behind thin trail of smoke. Several people screamed and backed out of the way. Jack would have burned Malfoy hadn't he moved out of the way in time.

"You try to hex me?" Malfoy shouted. "You'll get in trouble you know!"

"You talk about death of parents as if it does not matter to you." Jack shouted, his eyes sparking. "How would you like it if you had to live alone, or live with people you hate?"

"Well, I am not currently alone or living with people I hate right now..." Malfoy sneered.

_"Petrificus-"_

"No!" Hermione interrupted, her eyes wide. "You'll get us all in trouble!"

Jack wanted to hex her too for being annoying, but he grudgingly towed his wand inside his pocket. He didn't dare admit it, but she was right.

"Yes, Jack." Malfoy sneered. "Listen to the know-"

"Alright! Time to continue the lesson!"

Madam Hooch was back from the Hospital Wing.

* * *

It was dinnertime. Harry had just finished telling Ron what had happened when he'd left the grounds with Professor McGonagall. Ron had a piece of steak and kidney pie halfway to his mouth, but he'd forgotten all about it.

Jack was still chewing his beef that he started eating 10 minutes ago.

"Seeker?" Ron said. "But first years never - you must be the youngest-"

"-house player in about a century, said Harry, shoveling pie into his mouth. He felt particularly hungry after the excitement of the afternoon. "Wood told me."

Ron was so amazed, and Jack was impressed. Ron just sat and gaped at Harry.

"I start training next week," said Harry. "Only don't tell anyone, Wood wants to keep it a secret."

Fred and George Weasley now came into the hall, spotted Harry, and hurried over.

"Well done," said George in a low voice. "Wood told us. We're on the team too - Beaters."

"I tell you, we're going to win that Quidditch cup for sure this year," said Fred. "We haven't won since Charlie left, but this year's team is going to be brilliant. You must be good, Harry, Wood was almost skipping when he told us."

"Anyway, we've got to go, Lee Jordan reckons he's found a new secret passageway out of the school."

Jack raised his eyebrows.

"Bet it's that one behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy that we found in our first week. See you."

Fred and George had hardly disappeared when someone far less welcome turned up: Malfoy, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.

"Having a last meal, Potter? When are you getting the train back to the Muggles?"

"You're a lot braver now that you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you," said Harry coolly. There was of course

nothing at all little about Crabbe and Goyle, but as the High Table was full of teachers, neither of them could do more than crack their knuckles and scowl.

"I'd take you on anytime on my own," said Malfoy. "Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only - no contact. What's the matter? Never heard of a wizard's duel before, I suppose?"

"Of course he has," said Ron, wheeling around. "I'm his second, who's yours?"

Malfoy looked at Crabbe and Goyle, sizing them up.

"Crabbe," he said. "Midnight all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room; that's always unlocked."

"I'll be his third." Jack interrupted.

Malfoy glanced at him wary, but he accepted. "Alright, than Goyle will be my third.

When Malfoy had gone, Ron and Harry looked at each other. "What is a wizard's duel?" said Harry. "And what do you mean, you're my second?"

"Well, a second's there to take over if you die," said Ron casually, getting started at last on his cold pie. Catching the look on Harry's face, he added quickly, "But people only die in proper duels, you know, with real wizards. The most you and Malfoy'll be able to do is send sparks at each other. Neither of you knows enough magic to do any real damage. I bet he expected you to refuse, anyway."

"And what if I wave my wand and nothing happens?"

"Throw it away and punch him on the nose," Ron suggested.

"You could learn some from me... but now till midnight is not possible. "Jack muttered."

"Excuse me."

They all looked up. It was Hermione Granger.

"Can't a person eat in peace in this place?" said Ron.

"Yeah, I am trying to eat this beef here, which just turned into sawdust when I saw you." Jack casually mentioned.

Hermione ignored them and spoke to Harry.

"I couldn't help overhearing what you and Malfoy were saying -"

"Bet you could," Ron muttered.

"But you couldn't." Jack continued.

"-and you mustn't go wandering around the school at night, think of the points you'll lose Gryffindor if you're caught, and you're bound to be. It's really very selfish of you."

"Your mom." said Jack.

"It's really none of your business," said Harry.

"Good-bye," said Ron.

* * *

All the same, it wasn't what you'd call the perfect end to the day, Harry thought, as he lay awake much later listening to Dean and Seamus falling asleep (Neville wasn't back from the hospital wing). Ron had spent all evening giving him advice such as "If he tries to curse you, you'd better dodge it, because I can't remember how to block them."

There was a very good chance they were going to get caught by Filch or Mrs. Norris, and Harry felt he was pushing his luck, breaking another school rule today. On the other hand, Malfoys sneering face kept looming up out of the darkness - this was his big chance to beat Malfoy face-to-face. He couldn't miss it.

Jack on the other hand, grinned madly. Finally his friends joined him in adventure of rule-breaking. This was what trouble-makers lived for; the thrill. Nothing was worth more than the experience of thrill.

"Half-past eleven," Ron muttered at last, "we'd better go."

They pulled on their bathrobes, picked up their wands, and crept across the tower room, down the spiral staircase, and into the Gryffindor common room. A few embers were still glowing in the fireplace, turning all the armchairs into hunched black shadows. They had almost reached the portrait hole when a voice spoke from the chair nearest them, "I can't believe you're going to do this, Harry."

A lamp flickered on. It was Hermione Granger, wearing a pink bathrobe and a frown.

"I'm terribly sorry," Jack causally muttered with perfect English accent. "But since when did we become first name terms with each other?"

"You!" said Ron furiously. "Go back to bed!"

"I almost told your brother," Hermione snapped, "Percy - he's a prefect, he'd put a stop to this."

"Did I say your mom?" Jack asked.

"Come on," he said to Jack. He pushed open the portrait of the Fat Lady and climbed through the hole.

Hermione wasn't going to give up that easily. She followed Ron through the portrait hole, hissing at them like an angry goose.

"Don't you care about Gryffindor, do you only care about yourselves, I don't want Slytherin to win the house cup, and you'll lose all the points I got from Professor McGonagall for knowing about Switching Spells."

"You don't care about Gryffindor. You don't care about House Points. You don't care who wins the Cup. All you care about is sticking your nose into our business because you have nothing better to do." Jack muttered harshly.

"Go away." Said Ron.

"All right, but I warned you, you just remember what I said when you're on the train home tomorrow, you're so -"

But what they were, they didn't find out. Hermione had turned to the portrait of the Fat Lady to get back inside and found herself facing an

empty painting. The Fat Lady had gone on a nighttime visit and Hermione was locked out of Gryffindor tower.

"Now what am I going to do?" she asked shrilly.

"That's your problem," said Ron. "We've got to go, we're going to be late."

They hadn't even reached the end of the corridor when Hermione caught up with them.

"I'm coming with you," she said.

"You are not."

"D'you think I'm going to stand out here and wait for Filch to catch me? If he finds all three of us I'll tell him the truth, that I was trying to stop you, and you can back me up."

"Heck no." said Jack.

"You've got some nerve -" said Ron loudly.

"Shut up, both of you!" said Harry sharply. "I heard something."

It was a sort of snuffling.

"Mrs. Norris?" breathed Ron, squinting through the dark.

It wasn't Mrs. Norris. It was Neville. He was curled up on the floor, fast asleep, but jerked suddenly awake as they crept nearer.

"Thank goodness you found me! I've been out here for hours, I couldn't remember the new password to get in to bed."

"Keep your voice down, Neville. The password's 'Pig snout' but it won't help you now, the Fat Lady's gone off somewhere."

"How's your arm?" said Harry.

"Fine," said Neville, showing them. "Madam Pomfrey mended it in about a minute."

"Good - well, look, Neville, we've got to be somewhere, we'll see you later -"

"Don't leave me!" said Neville, scrambling to his feet, "I don't want to stay here alone, the Bloody Baron's been past twice already."

"Great." Jack muttered.

Ron looked at his watch and then glared furiously at Hermione an Neville.

"If either of you get us caught, I'll never rest until I've learned that Curse of the Bogies Quirrell told us about, and used it on you.

Hermione opened her mouth.

"No, you are not telling him how to use that spell. Now shut up please." Jack uninterrupted.

Harry hissed at them to be quiet and beckoned them all forward.

They flitted along corridors striped with bars of moonlight from the high windows. At every turn Harry expected to run into Filch or Mrs. Norris, but they were lucky. They sped up a staircase to the third floor and tiptoed toward the trophy room.

Malfoy and Crabbe weren't there yet. The crystal trophy cases glimmered where the moonlight caught them. Cups, shields, plates, and statues winked silver and gold in the darkness. They edged along the walls, keeping their eyes on the doors at either end of the room. Harry took out his wand in case Malfoy leaped in and started at once. The minutes crept by.

"He's late, maybe he's chickened out," Ron whispered.

Then a noise in the next room made them jump. Harry had only just raised his wand when they heard someone speak -and it wasn't Malfoy.

"Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner."

It was Filch speaking to Mrs. Norris. Horror-struck, Harry waved madly at the other four to follow him as quickly as possible; they scurried silently toward the door, away from Filch's voice. Neville's robes had barely whipped round the corner when they heard Filch enter the trophy room.

"They're in here somewhere," they heard him mutter, "probably hiding."

"This way!" Harry mouthed to the others and, terrified, they began to creep down a long gallery full of suits of armor. They could hear Filch getting nearer. Neville suddenly let out a frightened squeak and broke into a run - he tripped, grabbed Ron around the waist, and the pair of them toppled right into a suit of armor.

"Doggone it." muttered Jack.

The clanging and crashing were enough to wake the whole castle.

"RUN!" Harry yelled, and all five of them sprinted down the gallery, not looking back to see whether Filch was following - they swung around the doorpost and galloped down one corridor then another, Harry in the lead, without any idea where they were or where they were going - they ripped through a tapestry and found themselves in a hidden passageway, hurtled along it and came out near their Charms classroom, which they knew was miles from the trophy room.

"I think we've lost him," Harry panted, leaning against the cold wall and wiping his forehead. Neville was bent double, wheezing and spluttering.

I - told -you," Hermione gasped, clutching at the stitch in her chest,

"I - told - you."

"Your mom." Jack replied.

"We've got to get back to Gryffindor tower," said Ron, "quickly as possible."

"Malfoy tricked you," Hermione said to Harry. "You realize that, don't you? He was never going to meet you - Filch knew someone was going to be in the trophy room, Malfoy must have tipped him off."

"Well that's great observation Miss Obvious, if you knew that you could have just told us and not get into this mess." Jack whispered furiously.

"Let's go."

It wasn't going to be that simple. They hadn't gone more than a dozen paces when a doorknob rattled and something came shooting out of a classroom in front of them.

It was Peeves. He caught sight of them and gave a squeal of delight.

"Shut up, Peeves - please - you'll get us thrown out."

Peeves cackled.

"Wandering around at midnight, Ickle Firsties? Tut, tut, tut. Naughty, naughty, you'll get caughty."

"Not if you don't give us away, Peeves, please."

"Should tell Filch, I should," said Peeves in a saintly voice, but his eyes glittered wickedly. "It's for your own good, you know."

"Get out of the way," snapped Ron, taking a swipe at Peeves this was a big mistake.

"Dude!" Jack shouted.

"STUDENTS OUT OF BED!" Peeves bellowed, "STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!"

Ducking under Peeves, they ran for their lives, right to the end of the corridor where they slammed into a door - and it was locked.

"This is it!" Ron moaned, as they pushed helplessly at the door, "We're done for! This is the end!" They could hear footsteps, Filch running as fast as he could toward Peeves's shouts.

"Oh, move over," Hermione snarled. She grabbed Harry's wand, tapped the lock, and whispered, 'Alo-"

"-homora." Jack beat her to it.

The lock clicked and the door swung open - they piled through it, shut it quickly, and pressed their ears against it, listening.

"Which way did they go, Peeves?" Filch was saying. "Quick, tell me."

"Say 'please."'

"Don't mess with me, Peeves, now where did they go?"

"Shan't say nothing if you don't say please," said Peeves in his annoying singsong voice.

"All right -please."

"NOTHING! Ha haaa! Told you I wouldn't say nothing if you didn't say please! Ha ha! Haaaaaa!" And they heard the sound of Peeves whooshing away and Filch cursing in rage.

"You know, that was rather clever." Jack observed.

"He thinks this door is locked," Harry whispered. "I think we'll be okay - get off, Neville!" For Neville had been tugging on the sleeve of Harry's bathrobe for the last minute. "What?"

Harry turned around - and saw, quite clearly, what. For a moment, he was sure he'd walked into a nightmare - this was too much, on top of everything that had happened so far.

They weren't in a room, as he had supposed. They were in a corridor. The forbidden corridor on the third floor. And now they knew why it was forbidden.

They were looking straight into the eyes of a monstrous dog, a dog that filled the whole space between ceiling and floor. It had three heads.

"Cerberus." Jack breathed.

Three pairs of rolling, mad eyes; three noses, twitching and quivering in their direction; three drooling mouths, saliva hanging in slippery ropes from yellowish fangs.

It was standing quite still, all six eyes staring at them, and Harry knew that the only reason they weren't already dead was that their sudden appearance had taken it by surprise, but it was quickly getting over that, there was no mistaking what those thunderous growls meant.

Harry groped for the doorknob - between Filch and death, he'd take Filch.

They fell backward - Harry slammed the door shut, and they ran, they almost flew, back down the corridor. Filch must have hurried off to look for them somewhere else, because they didn't see him anywhere, but they hardly cared - all they wanted to do was put as much space as possible between them and that monster. They didn't stop running until they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady on the seventh floor.

"Where on earth have you all been?" she asked, looking at their bathrobes hanging off their shoulders and their flushed, sweaty faces.

"Never mind that - pig snout, pig snout," panted Harry, and the portrait swung forward. They scrambled into the common room and collapsed, trembling, into armchairs.

It was a while before any of them said anything. Neville, indeed, looked as if he'd never speak again.

"What do they think they're doing, keeping a thing like that locked upon a school?" said Ron finally. "If any dog needs exercise, that one does."

"And why is the corridor closed with such a basic spell being a counter-curse?" Jack added.

Hermione had got both her breath and her bad temper back again. "You don't use your eyes, any of you, do you?" she snapped. "Didn't you see what it was standing on?"

"In most basic situations where our lives are in danger, we usually try to save our necks, not our feet." Jack commented casually.

"The floor?" Harry suggested. "I wasn't looking at its feet, I was too busy with its heads."

"No, not the floor. It was standing on a trapdoor. It's obviously guarding something."

"Only you would notice that." Jack retorted.

She stood up, glaring at them.

I hope you're pleased with yourselves. We could all have been killed - or worse, expelled. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to bed."

Ron stared after her, his mouth open.

"No, we don't mind," he said. "You'd think we dragged her along, wouldn't you?"

"That girl has her priorities messed up." Jack muttered as he closed the curtains.


	7. The Troll

Malfoy couldn't believe his eyes when he saw that Harry and his friends were still at Hogwarts the next day, looking tired but perfectly cheerful. Indeed, by the next morning Harry and Ron agrred with Jack that meeting the three-headed dog had been an excellent adventure, and they were quite keen to have another one. In the meantime, Harry filled Ron and Jack in about the package that seemed to have been moved from Gringotts to Hogwarts, and they spent a lot of time wondering what could possibly need such heavy protection.

"It's either really valuable or really dangerous," said Ron.

"Or both," said Harry.

"Or, it could be a something that is very important or useful... that everybody might desire..." Jack mused, slowly swirling his soup. "But what could it be?"

But as all they knew for sure about the mysterious object was that it was about two inches long, they didn't have much chance of guessing what it was without further clues.

Neither Neville nor Hermione showed the slightest interest in what lay underneath the dog and the trapdoor. All Neville cared about was never going near the dog again.

Hermione was now refusing to speak to them, but she was such a bossy know-it-all that they saw this as an added bonus. All they really wanted now was a way of getting back at Malfoy, and to their great delight, just such a thing arrived in the mail about a week later. As the owls flooded into the Great Hall as usual, everyone's attention was caught at once by a long, thin package carried by six large screech owls. Harry was just as interested as everyone else to see what was in this large parcel, and was amazed when the owls soared down and dropped it right in front of him, knocking his bacon to the floor. They had hardly fluttered out of the way when another owl dropped a letter on top of the parcel.

Harry ripped open the letter first, which was lucky, because it said:

**DO NOT OPEN THE PARCEL AT THE TABLE.**

**It contains your new Nimbus Two Thousand, but I don't want everybody**

**knowing you've got a broomstick or they'll all want one. Oliver Wood**

**will meet you tonight on the Quidditch field at seven o'clock for your**

**first training session.**

**Professor McGonagall**

Harry had difficulty hiding his glee as he handed the note to Ron and Jack to read.

"A Nimbus Two Thousand!" Ron moaned enviously. "I've never even touched one."

"Holy..." Jack murmered as he handled the broom with care. "Nice."

They left the hall quickly, wanting to unwrap the broomstick in private before their first class, but halfway across the entrance hall they found the way upstairs barred by Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy seized the package from Harry and felt it.

"That's a broomstick," he said, throwing it back to Harry with a mixture of jealousy and spite on his face. "You'll be in for it this time, Potter, first years aren't allowed them."

Ron couldn't resist it.

"It's not any old broomstick," he said, "it's a Nimbus Two Thousand. What did you say you've got at home, Malfoy, a Comet Two Sixty?" Ron grinned at Harry. "Comets look flashy, but they're not in the same league as the Nimbus."

"What would you know about it, Weasley, you couldn't afford half the handle," Malfoy snapped back. "I suppose you and your brothers have to save up twig by twig."

Before Ron could answer, Professor Flitwick appeared at Malfoy's elbow.

"Not arguing, I hope, boys?" he squeaked.

"Potter's been sent a broomstick, Professor," said Malfoy quickly.

"Yes, yes, that's right," said Professor Flitwick, beaming at Harry.

"Professor McGonagall told me all about the special circumstances, Potter. And what model is it?"

"A Nimbus Two Thousand, sir," said Harry, fighting not to laugh at the look of horror on Malfoy's face. "And it's really thanks to Malfoy here that I've got it," he added.

They headed upstairs, smothering their laughter at Malfoy's obvious rage and confusion. "Well, it's true," Harry chortled as they reached the top of the marble staircase, "If he hadn't stolen Neville's Remembrall I wouln't be on the team..."

"Malfoy actually did something useful... You sure its not 2012 yet?" Jack observed.

"So I suppose you think that's a reward for breaking rules?" came an angry voice from just behind them. Hermione was stomping up the stairs, looking disapprovingly at the package in Harry's hand.

"I thought you weren't speaking to us?" said Harry.

"Yes, don't stop now," said Ron, "it's doing us so much good."

Hermione marched away with her nose in the air.

"You know, I wouldn't be surprised if her wand core was Dragon Heartstring..." Jack muttered. "She is very headstrong."

Harry had a lot of trouble keeping his mind on his lessons that day. It kept wandering up to the dormitory where his new broomstick was lying under his bed, or straying off to the Quidditch field where he'd be learning to play that night. He bolted his dinner that evening without noticing what he was eating, and then rushed upstairs with Ron to unwrap the Nimbus Two Thousand at last.

"Wow," Ron sighed, as the broomstick rolled onto Harry's bedspread. Jack had to resist the urge to fap at the sight of the broom. Even Harry, who knew nothing about the different brooms, thought it looked wonderful. Sleek and shiny, with a mahogany handle, it had a long tail of neat, straight twigs and Nimbus Two Thousand written in gold near the top.

As seven o'clock drew nearer, Harry left the castle and set off in the dusk toward the Quidditch field.

Ron decided to continue his homework at commonroom.

Jack slowly went inside Boy's Dorm. He clutched the parhcment he had gotten from Filch.

He went over to one desk, and set the parchment on a table.

He took out his wand. he raised it, only to put it down again after few moments.

His mind was blank. How was he supposed to reveal whatever it held back?

Than a ligthbulb turn on on top of its head.

He turned it off, put his wand on the parhcment, and muttered:

_"Revelio."_

A word formed at the parchment on its own.

_Mr. Prongs would like to imform the intruder to keep his nose out of their buisness._

Jack raised his eyebrows. So this object was dangerous if you put it that way. It had brains on it's own.

_Think. _He thought to himself. _If I were the creator of this parchment, what password would I use to unlock it?_

The lightbuld turned on again.

He turned it off and pointed his wand at the parchment.

"I wish to use this object to make Mr. Filch's life miserable."

Words formed over the parchment.

_Mr. Padfoot would like to imform you that you are heading toward a good goal in life._

"Any way you could help me?" Jack muttered.

_Mr. Moony would like to show you a paragraph that could lead to the password._

_Mr. Wormtail would like to present you the words:_

_"Mischief goes a long way. In fact, little by little, a mischief can nibble away wizards' very patience; whereas it could turn into a bloody war. The important thing to remember is the fact that the Master of Pranks(us) can almost always win. The status of Master Pranks are terribly hard to obtain. It should only be attempted by wizards who are very good at pulling off pranks. This is a good lesson given by Master of Pranks themselves. Always place this advice deep inside your heart."_

Jack's mind was boggled. What did these sentences represent?

"You gotta be kidding me." Jack muttered.

_Mr. Prongs would like to imform you that they are not jesting._

Jack stared at the message apprehensively, and wrote down the message.

He'll have to decode them later on; it was getting late.

* * *

Time flew by. Without him noticing, it was already October; they have spent 2 months on the castle.

And he loved it.

The lessons given by teachers were also getting more interesting due to the fact that they learned the basics.

On Halloween morning they woke to the delicious smell of baking pumpkin wafting through the corridors. Even better, Professor Flitwick announced in Charms that he thought they were ready to start making objects fly, something they had all been dying to try since they'd seen him make Neville's toad zoom around the classroom. Professor Flitwick put the class into pairs to practice. Harry's partner was Seamus Finnigan (which was a relief, because Neville had been trying to catch his eye). Ron, however, was to be working with Hermione Granger. It was hard to tell whether Ron or Hermione was angrier about this. She hadn't spoken to them since the day Harry's broomstick had arrived.

"Now, don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practicing!" squeaked Professor Flitwick, perched on top of his pile of books as usual. "Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the magic words properly is very important, too - never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said 's' instead of 'f' and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest."

It was very difficult. Harry and Seamus swished and flicked, but the feather they were supposed to be sending skyward just lay on the desktop. Seamus got so impatient that he prodded it with his wand and set fire to it - Harry had to put it out with his hat.

Jack was able to get the spell going after first try. He was tempted to say 'f' instead of 's', but he decided it was for another time.

Ron, at the next table, wasn't having much more luck.

_"Wingardium Leviosa!" _he shouted, waving his long arms like a windmill.

"You're saying it wrong," Harry heard Hermione snap. "It's Wing-gar-dium Levi-o-sa, make the 'gar' nice and long."

"You do it, then, if you're so clever," Ron snarled.

Hermione rolled up the sleeves of her gown, flicked her wand, and said,

_"Wingardium Leviosa!"_

Their feather rose off the desk and hovered about four feet above their heads.

"Oh, well done!" cried Professor Flitwick, clapping. "Everyone see here, Miss Granger's done it!"

Ron was in a very bad mood by the end of the class. "It's no wonder no one can stand her," he said to Harry as they pushed their way into the crowded corridor, "she's a nightmare, honestly. "

Someone knocked into Harry as they hurried past him. It was Hermione.

Harry caught a glimpse of her face - and was startled to see that she was in tears.

"I think she heard you."

"So?" said Ron, but he looked a bit uncomfortable. "She must've noticed she's got no friends."

"Boy." Jack commented while they went down to their next class. "that escalated quickly."

Hermione didn't turn up for the next class and wasn't seen all afternoon. On their way down to the Great Hall for the Halloween feast, Harry and Ron overheard Parvati Patil telling her friend Lavender that Hermione was crying in the girls' bathroom and wanted to be left alone.

Ron looked still more awkward at this, but a moment later they had entered the Great Hall, where the Halloween decorations put Hermione out of their minds.

A thousand live bats fluttered from the walls and ceiling while a thousand more swooped over the tables in low black clouds, making the candles in the pumpkins stutter. The feast appeared suddenly on the golden plates, as it had at the start-of-term banquet.

Jack was eating giant steak when Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the hall, his turban askew and terror on his face.

Everyone stared as he reached Professor Dumbledore's chair, slumped against the table, and gasped, "Troll - in the dungeons - thought you ought to know."

He then sank to the floor in a dead faint.

There was an uproar. It took several purple firecrackers exploding from the end of Professor Dumbledore's wand to bring silence.

"Prefects," he rumbled, "lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!"

Percy was in his element.

"Follow me! Stick together, first years! No need to fear the troll if you follow my orders! Stay close behind me, now. Make way, first years coming through! Excuse me, I'm a prefect!"

"How could a troll get in?" Harry asked as they climbed the stairs.

"Don't ask me, they're supposed to be really stupid," said Ron. "Maybe Peeves let it in for a Halloween joke."

They passed different groups of people hurrying in different directions.

As they jostled their way through a crowd of confused Hufflepuffs, Harry suddenly grabbed Ron's arm.

"I've just thought - Hermione."

"What about her?"

"She doesn't know about the troll."

Ron bit his lip.

"I'll go check on her." Jack offered, staring at his watch. "Folow me if I don't come back in 5 minutes."

"Oh, all right," he snapped. "But Percy'd better not see you."

Ducking down, Jack joined the Hufflepuffs going the other way, slipped down a deserted side corridor, and hurried off toward the girls' bathroom. They had just turned the corner when he heard quick footsteps behind them.

He closed his eyes and stood still.

When he opened his eyes, he saw that it was Snape, walking down towards dungeons.

He continued down until he sniffed and a foul stench reached his nostrils, a mixture of old socks and the kind of public toilet no one seems to clean.

And then he heard it - a low grunting, and the shuffling footfalls of gigantic feet. At the end of a passage to the left, something huge was moving toward him. He shrank into the shadows and watched as it emerged into a patch of moonlight.

It was a horrible sight. Twelve feet tall, its skin was a dull, granite gray, its great lumpy body like a boulder with its small bald head perched on top like a coconut. It had short legs thick as tree trunks with flat, horny feet. The smell coming from it was incredible. It was holding a huge wooden club, which dragged along the floor because its arms were so long.

The troll stopped next to a doorway and peered inside. It waggled its long ears, making up its tiny mind, then slouched slowly into the room.

after few seconds, a high, petrified scream came from the chamber Troll walked in.

He heard someone coming behind him. He whipped around and saw Harry and Ron sprinting torward him.

"Hurry!" Jack hissed. "The Troll just walked inside a girl's bathroom!"

"Oh, no," said Ron, pale as the Bloody Baron.

"Hermione!" they said together.

It was the last thing they wanted to do, but what choice did they have?

Wheeling around, they pulled the door open and they ran inside.

Hermione Granger was shrinking against the wall opposite, looking as if she was about to faint. The troll was advancing on her, knocking the sinks off the walls as it went.

"Confuse it!" Harry said desperately to Ron, and, seizing a tap, he threw it as hard as he could against the wall.

The troll stopped a few feet from Hermione. It lumbered around, blinking stupidly, to see what had made the noise.

_"Congelatio!"_ Jack shouted furiously at the troll; only for the spell to bounce off of it's chest.

Its mean little eyes saw Harry. It hesitated, then made for him instead, lifting its club as it went.

"Oy, pea-brain!" yelled Ron from the other side of the chamber, and he threw a metal pipe at it. The troll didn't even seem to notice the pipe hitting its shoulder, but it heard the yell and paused again, turning its ugly snout toward Ron instead, giving Harry time to run around it.

"Come on, run, run!" Harry yelled at Hermione, trying to pull her toward the door, but she couldn't move, she was still flat against the wall, her mouth open with terror.

The shouting and the echoes seemed to be driving the troll berserk. It roared again and started toward Jack, who was nearest and had no way to escape.

_"Aurumflamma!" _

_"Rictusempra!"_

Jack was bouncing spells off the troll's chest ueslessly.

Harry then did something that was both very brave and very stupid: He took a great running jump and managed to fasten his arms around the troll's neck from behind. The troll couldn't feel Harry hanging there, but even a troll will notice if you stick a long bit of wood up its nose, and Harry's wand had still been in his hand when he'd jumped - it had gone straight up one of the troll's nostrils. Howling with pain, the troll twisted and flailed its club, with Harry clinging on for dear life; any second, the troll was going to rip him off or catch him a terrible blow with the club.

Hermione had sunk to the floor in fright; Ron pulled out his own wand - not knowing what he was going to do he heard himself cry the first spell that came into his head:

_"Wingardium Leviosa!"_

The club flew suddenly out of the troll's hand, rose high, high up into the air, turned slowly over - and dropped, with a sickening crack, onto its owner's head. The troll swayed on the spot and then fell flat on its face, with a thud that made the whole room tremble.

Harry got to his feet. He was shaking and out of breath. Ron was standing there with his wand still raised, staring at what he had done. Jack was clenching his teeth, his face stony.

It was Hermione who spoke first.

"Is it - dead?"

I don't think so," said Harry, I think it's just been knocked out."

He bent down and pulled his wand out of the troll's nose. It was covered in what looked like lumpy gray glue.

"Urgh - troll boogers."

He wiped it on the troll's trousers.

A sudden slamming and loud footsteps made the three of them look up.

They hadn't realized what a racket they had been making, but of course, someone downstairs must have heard the crashes and the troll's roars. A moment later, Professor McGonagall had come bursting into the room, closely followed by Snape, with Quirrell bringing up the rear. Quirrell took one look at the troll, let out a faint whimper, and sat quickly down on a toilet, clutching his heart.

Snape bent over the troll. Professor McGonagall was looking at Ron, Harry and Jack. Harry had never seen her look so angry. Her lips were white. Hopes of winning fifty points for Gryffindor faded quickly from Harry's mind.

"What on earth were you thinking of?" said Professor McGonagall, with cold fury in her voice. Harry looked at Ron, who was still standing with his wand in the air. "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitory?"

Snape gave Harry a swift, piercing look. Harry looked at the floor. He wished Ron would put his wand down.

Then a small voice came out of the shadows.

"Please, Professor McGonagall - they were looking for me."

"Miss Granger!"

Hermione had managed to get to her feet at last.

I went looking for the troll because I - I thought I could deal with it on my own - you know, because I've read all about them."

Ron dropped his wand. Hermione Granger, telling a downright lie to a teacher?

"If they hadn't found me, I'd be dead now. Harry stuck his wand up its nose, Jack tried to slow it down, and Ron knocked it out with its own club. They didn't have time to come and fetch anyone. It was about to finish me off when they arrived."

Harry and Ron tried to look as though this story wasn't new to them.

"Well - in that case..." said Professor McGonagall, staring at the three of them, "Miss Granger, you foolish girl, how could you think of tackling a mountain troll on your own?"

Hermione hung her head.

Jack was impressed. Perhaps there was a rebel inside that goodie-two shoes.

Hermione was the last person to do anything against the rules, and here she was, pretending she had, to get them out of trouble. It was as if Snape had started handing out sweets.

"Miss Granger, five points will be taken from Gryffindor for this," said Professor McGonagall. "I'm very disappointed in you. If you're not hurt at all, you'd better get off to Gryffindor tower. Students are finishing the feast in their houses."

Hermione left.

Professor McGonagall turned to Them.

"Well, I still say you were lucky, but not many first years could have taken on a full-grown mountain troll. You each win Gryffindor five points. Professor Dumbledore will be informed of this. You may go."

They hurried out of the chamber and didn't speak at all until they had climbed two floors up. It was a relief to be away from the smell of the troll, quite apart from anything else.

"We should have gotten more than fifteen points," Ron grumbled.

"Ten, you mean, once she's taken off Hermione's." Jack muttered.

"Good of her to get us out of trouble like that," Ron admitted. "Mind you, we did save her."

"She might not have needed saving if we hadn't locked the thing in with her," Harry reminded him.

They had reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Pig snout," they said and entered.

The common room was packed and noisy. Everyone was eating the food that had been sent up. Hermione, however, stood alone by the door, waiting for them. There was a very embarrassed pause. Then, none of them looking at each other, they all said "Thanks," and hurried off to get plates.

But from that moment on, Hermione Granger became their friend. There are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other, and knocking out a twelve-foot mountain troll is one of them.


	8. The Game

As they entered November, the weather turned very cold. The mountains around the school became icy gray and the lake like chilled steel. Every morning the ground was covered in frost.

Hagrid could be seen from the upstairs windows defrosting broomsticks on the Quidditch field, bundled up in a long moleskin overcoat, rabbit fur gloves, and enormous beaver skin boots.

The Quidditch season had begun. On Saturday, Harry would be playing in his first match after weeks of training: Gryffindor versus Slytherin. If Gryffindor won, they would move up into second place in the house championship.

Hardly anyone had seen Harry play because Wood had decided that, as their secret weapon, Harry should be kept, well, secret. But the news that he was playing Seeker had leaked out somehow, and Harry didn't know which was worse - people telling him he'd be brilliant or people telling him they'd be running around underneath him holding a mattress.

It was really lucky that Harry and Ron now had Hermione as a friend. They didn't know how he'd have gotten through all their homework without her, what with all the last-minute Quidditch practice Wood was making them do. As for Jack, he had no problem finishing his homework even before Hermione's help; but he thought that extra knowledge hurt nobody.

Hermione had become a bit more relaxed about breaking rules since they had saved her from the mountain troll, and she was much nicer for it. The day before Harry's first Quidditch match the four of them were out in the freezing courtyard during break, and she had conjured them up a bright blue fire that could be carried around in a jam jar.

They were standing with their backs to it, getting warm, when Snape crossed the yard. Jack noticed at once that Snape was limping. They moved closer together to block the fire from view; they were sure it wouldn't be allowed. Unfortunately, something about their guilty faces caught Snape's eye. He limped over. He hadn't seen the fire, but he seemed to be looking for a reason to tell them off anyway.

"What's that you've got there, Potter?"

It was Quidditch Through the Ages. Harry showed him.

"Library books are not to be taken outside the school," said Snape. "Give it to me. Five points from Gryffindor."

"He's just made that rule up," Harry muttered angrily as Snape limped away. "Wonder what's wrong with his leg?"

"Dunno, but I hope it's really hurting him," said Ron bitterly.

"From the looks of it, it seems that he suffering from carnal wound." Jack observed.

They stared at him.

"He got bitten by an animal." Jack explained in more simpler term.

The Gryffindor common room was very noisy that evening. They all sat together next to a window. Hermione was checking Harry and Ron's Charms homework for them. Jack was finished with his. She would never let them copy ("How will you learn?"), but by asking her to read it through, they got the right answers anyway.

Harry felt restless. He wanted Quidditch Through the Ages back, to take his mind off his nerves about tomorrow. Why should he be afraid of Snape? Getting up, he told Ron and Hermione he was going to ask Snape if he could have it.

"Better you than me," they said together, but Harry had an idea that Snape wouldn't refuse if there were other teachers listening.

"I'll come with you." Jack offered.

Together they made his way down to the staffroom and knocked. There was no answer. Jack knocked again. Nothing.

Perhaps Snape had left the book in there? It was worth a try.

"I'll take a look." He said to Harry.

Jack pushed the door ajar and peered inside - and a horrible scene met his eyes.

Snape and Filch were inside, alone.

"...Huh." Jack muttered.

Snape was holding his robes above his knees.

Jack's eyes widened.

One of his legs was bloody and mangled. Filch was handing Snape bandages.

"Oh my God..." Jack muttered

"Blasted thing"," Snape was saying. "How are you supposed to keep your eyes on all three heads at once?"

Jack tried to shut the door quietly, but -

"BLACK!"

Snape's face was twisted with fury as he dropped his robes quickly to hide his leg. Jack gulped.

"I just wondered if Harry could have his book back."

"GET OUT! OUT!"

They left, before Snape could take any more points from Gryffindor. They sprinted back upstairs.

"Did you get it?" Ron asked as they joined them. "What's the matter?"

In a low whisper, Harry told them what they seen.

"You know what this means?" he finished breathlessly.

"That Snape won't be able to dance for a month?" Jack replied innocently.

"He tried to get past that three-headed dog at Halloween! That's where he was going when we saw him - he's after whatever it's guarding! And I'd bet my broomstick he let that troll in, to make a diversion!"

Hermione's eyes were wide.

"No - he wouldn't, she said." I know he's not very nice, but he wouldn't try and steal something Dumbledore was keeping safe."

"Honestly, Hermione, you think all teachers are saints or something," snapped Ron. "I'm with Harry. I wouldn't put anything past Snape. But what's he after? What's that dog guarding?"

Harry went to bed with his head buzzing with the same question. Neville was snoring loudly, but Jack couldn't sleep. He tried to empty his mind - he needed to sleep - but the expression on Snape's face when Jack had seen his leg wasn't easy to forget.

* * *

The next morning dawned very bright and cold. The Great Hall was full of the delicious smell of fried sausages and the cheerful chatter of everyone looking forward to a good Quidditch match.

"You've got to eat some breakfast." Jack muttered

"I don't want anything." said Harry.

"Just a bit of toast," wheedled Hermione.

"I'm not hungry." said Harry.

Harry felt terrible. In an hour's time he'd be walking onto the field.

"Harry, you need your strength," said Seamus Finnigan. "Seekers are always the ones who get clobbered by the other team."

"Thanks, Seamus," said Harry, watching Seamus pile ketchup on his sausages.

By eleven o'clock the whole school seemed to be out in the stands around the Quidditch pitch. Many students had binoculars. The seats might be raised high in the air, but it was still difficult to see what was going on sometimes.

Ron and Hermione joined Neville, Seamus, Jack and Dean the West Ham fan up in the top row. As a surprise for Harry, they had painted a large banner on one of the sheets Scabbers had ruined. It said Potter for President, and Dean, who was good at drawing, had done a large Gryffindor lion underneath. Then Hermione had performed a tricky little charm so that the paint flashed different colors.

"Think they are going to win?" Jack asked Ron.

"We'll just have to hope and see."

The Quidditch team began to walk out to the field. The Captains shook hands, and they mounted the broom.

Fifteen brooms rose up, high, high into the air. They were off. "And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor - what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too -"

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry, Professor."

"All right, now I see why he is doing the commentary." Jack grinned.

The Weasley twins' friend, Lee Jordan, was doing the commentary for the match, closely watched by Professor McGonagall.

"And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve - back to Johnson and - no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes - Flint flying like an eagle up there - he's going to sc- no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and the Gryffindors take the Quaffle - that's Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint, off up the field and - OUCH - that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger - Quaffle taken by the Slytherins - that's Adrian Pucey speeding off toward the goal posts, but he's blocked by a second Bludger - sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can't tell which - nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes - she's really flying - dodges a speeding Bludger - the goal posts are ahead - come on, now, Angelina - Keeper Bletchley dives - misses - GRYFFINDORS SCORE!"

Gryffindor cheers filled the cold air, with howls and moans from the Slytherins.

"Budge up there, move along."

"Hagrid!"

Ron and Hermione squeezed together to give Hagrid enough space to join them.

"Bin watchin' from me hut," said Hagrid, patting a large pair of binoculars around his neck, "But it isn't the same as bein' in the crowd. No sign of the Snitch yet, eh?"

"Nope," said Ron. "Harry hasn't had much to do yet."

"Kept outta trouble, though, that's somethin'," said Hagrid, raising his binoculars and peering skyward at the speck that was Harry. Way up above them, Harry was gliding over the game, squinting about for some sign of the Snitch.

"Perhaps it's part of the plan." Jack observed. "They don't want Harry to be a target before he sees the snitch."

"Slytherin in possession," Lee Jordan was saying,

"They are possessed!" Quick, come! Blue Exorcist!" Jack shouted wildly failing his arms in the air."

Hermione and Ron groaned.

"Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Bell, and speeds toward the - wait a moment - was that the Snitch?"

A murmur ran through the crowd as Adrian Pucey dropped the Quaffle, too busy looking over his shoulder at the flash of gold that had passed his left ear.

"Idiot!" Jack shouted. "Oh well, least it was a Slytherin that droped the Quaffle..."

Harry saw it. In a great rush of excitement he dived downward after the streak of gold. Slytherin Seeker Terence Higgs had seen it, too. Neck and neck they hurtled toward the Snitch -all the Chasers seemed to have forgotten what they were supposed to be doing as they hung in midair to watch.

"Don't just stand there!" Jack was shouting furiously. "Take the Quaffle whie Slytherins is distracted!"

Harry was faster than Higgs - he could see the little round ball, wings fluttering, darting up ahead - - he put on an extra spurt of speed - WHAM! A roar of rage echoed from the Gryffindors below - Marcus Flint had blocked Harry on purpose, and Harry's broom spun off course, Harry holding on for dear life.

"Foul!" screamed the Gryffindors.

"Go foul yourself!" Jack was screaming wildly at Marcus.

Madam Hooch spoke angrily to Flint and then ordered a free shot at the goal posts for Gryffindor. But in all the confusion, of course, the Golden Snitch had disappeared from sight again. Down in the stands, Dean Thomas was yelling, "Send him off, ref! Red card!"

"What are you talking about, Dean?" said Ron.

"Red card!" said Dean furiously. "In soccer you get shown the red card and you're out of the game!"

"But this isn't soccer, Dean," Ron reminded him.

Hagrid, however, was on Dean's side.

"They oughta change the rules. Flint coulda knocked Harry outta the air."

Lee Jordan was finding it difficult not to take sides.

"So - after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating

"Jordan!" growled Professor McGonagall.

"I mean, after that open and revolting foul

'Jordan, I'm warning you -"

"All right, all right. Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone, I'm sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinner, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue play, Gryffindor still in possession."

It was as Harry dodged another Bludger, which went spinning dangerously past his head that it happened. His broom gave a sudden, frightening lurch. For a split second, he thought he was going to fall. He gripped the broom tightly with both his hands and knees. He'd never felt anything like that.

It happened again. It was as though the broom was trying to buck him off. But Nimbus Two Thousands did not suddenly decide to buck their riders off. Harry tried to turn back toward the Gryffindor goal- posts - he had half a mind to ask Wood to call time-out - and then he realized that his broom was completely out of his control. He couldn't turn it. He couldn't direct it at all. It was zigzagging through the air, and every now and then making violent swishing movements that almost unseated him.

Lee was still commentating.

"What is wrong with Harry broom?" Jack observed with worry.

"Slytherin in possession - Flint with the Quaffle - passes Spinnet - passes Bell - hit hard in the face by a Bludger, hope it broke his nose - only joking, Professor - Slytherins score - A no...

The Slytherins were cheering. No one else seemed to have noticed that Harry's broom was behaving strangely. It was carrying- him slowly higher, away from the game, jerking and twitching as it went.

"Hagrid, look!" Jack motioned furiously at the state of safety harry was in.

"Dunno what Harry thinks he's doing," Hagrid mumbled. He stared through his binoculars. "If I didn' know better, I'd say he'd lost control of his broom... but he can't have..."

Suddenly, people were pointing up at Harry all over the stands. His broom had started to roll over and over, with him only just managing to hold on. Then the whole crowd gasped. Harry's broom had given a wild jerk and Harry swung off it. He was now dangling from it, holding on with only one hand.

"Did something happen to it when Flint blocked him?" Seamus whispered.

"Can't have," Hagrid said, his voice shaking. "Can't nothing interfere with a broomstick except powerful Dark magic - no kid could do that to a Nimbus Two Thousand."

At these words, Hermione seized Hagrid's binoculars, but instead of looking up at Harry, she started looking frantically at the crowd. "What are you doing?" moaned Ron, gray-faced.

"I knew it," Hermione gasped, "Snape - look."

Ron grabbed the binoculars. Snape was in the middle of the stands opposite them. He had his eyes fixed on Harry and was muttering nonstop under his breath.

"He's doing something - jinxing the broom," said Hermione.

"What should we do?"

"Leave it to me."

Before Ron or Jack could say another word, Hermione had disappeared. Jack looked back on Harry. His broom was vibrating so hard, it was almost impossible for him to hang on much longer. The whole crowd was on its feet, watching, terrified, as the Weasleys flew up to try and pull Harry safely onto one of their brooms, but it was no good - every time they got near him, the broom would jump higher still. They dropped lower and circled beneath him, obviously hoping to catch him if he fell. Marcus Flint seized the Quaffle and scored five times without anyone noticing.

"Come on, Hermione," Ron muttered desperately.

Hermione had fought her way across to the stand where Snape stood, and was now racing along the row behind him; she didn't even stop to say sorry as she knocked Professor Quirrell headfirst into the row in front. Reaching Snape, she crouched down, pulled out her wand, and whispered a few, well- chosen words. Bright blue flames shot from her wand onto the hem of Snape's robes.

It took perhaps thirty seconds for Snape to realize that he was on fire.

A sudden yelp told her she had done her job. Scooping the fire off him into a little jar in her pocket, she scrambled back along the row - Snape would never know what had happened.

It was enough. Up in the air, Harry was suddenly able to clamber back on to his broom.

"Neville, you can look!" Ron said. Neville had been sobbing into Hagrid's jacket for the last five minutes.

Harry was speeding toward the ground when the crowd saw him clap his hand to his mouth as though he was about to be sick - he hit the field on all fours - coughed - and something gold fell into his hand.

"I've got the Snitch!" he shouted, waving it above his head, and the game ended in complete confusion.

Jack was laughing.

"He didn't catch it, he nearly swallowed it," Flint was still howling twenty minutes later, but it made no difference - Harry hadn't broken any rules and Lee Jordan was still happily shouting the results - Gryffindor had won by one hundred and seventy points to sixty. Harry heard none of this, though. He was being made a cup of strong tea back in Hagrid's hut, with Ron and Hermione.

* * *

Jack trotted back to the Gryffindor common room; he was no fan of rock cake Hagrid was famous of. Besides, he had things to do.

He took out the parchment and took a look at it.

"Mischief goes a long way. In fact, little by little, a mischief can nibble away wizards' very patience; whereas it could turn into a bloody war. The important thing to remember is the fact that the Master of Pranks (us) can almost always win. The status of Master Pranks are terribly hard to obtain. It should only be attempted by wizards who are very good at pulling off pranks. This is a good lesson given by Master of Pranks themselves. Always place this advice deep inside your heart."

the message was still embedded there from the last time he tried to get something out of the fishy parchment. He still had no clue what he had to do.

Perhaps tapping the parchment saying he needed hints?

He tapped the parchment.

"I need more hints. I cannot get anything out of the cryptic message."

The parchment changed to show... some kind of coordinates.

Gryffindor : A,5 ; B,4 ; D,2 ; H,1,6 ; L,1 ; M,3 ; N,5 ; O,4 ; P,6 ; S,1,3,6 ; V,3 ; W,3 ; Z,2 ; AA,6,8 ; BA,3 ; HA,3 ; JA,1 ; SA,5 ; WA,1 ; YA,1 ; AB,5 ; KB,2.

Ravenclaw : A,4 ; D,1 ; J,6 ; Q,1,2,3 ; Y,1 ; DB,4 ; GB,2 ; QB,4 ; UB,2.

Hufflepuff : D,3 ; V,2 ; QA,3,4,5 ; CB,2 ; JB,5 ; K,3.

Slytherin : D,4 ; Y,3 ; HA,1 ; NA,1 ; O,1 ; XA,5 ; MB,4 ; NB,2 ; PB,2 ; RB,2 ; DC,5,6,7,8,9,10.

"Fudge." Jack muttered. "Gee, thanks. That really helps me."

Jack, disgruntled, closed the parchment and turned in for the night.


	9. The Mirror

Christmas was coming. One morning in mid-December, Hogwarts woke to find itself covered in several feet of snow. The lake froze solid and the Weasley twins were punished for bewitching several snowballs so that they followed Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his turban.

The few owls that managed to battle their way through the stormy sky to deliver mail had to be nursed back to health by Hagrid before they could fly off again. No one could wait for the holidays to start. While the Gryffindor common room and the Great Hall had roaring fires, the drafty corridors had become icy and a bitter wind rattled the windows in the classrooms.

Worst of all were Professor Snape's classes down in the dungeons, where their breath rose in a mist before them and they kept as close as possible to their hot cauldrons.

"I do feel so sorry," said Draco Malfoy, one Potions class, "for all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they're not wanted at home."

He was looking over at Harry as he spoke. Crabbe and Goyle chuckled.

Jack tried not to acknowledge Malfoy's scathing words.

Malfoy had been even more unpleasant than usual since the Quidditch match. Disgusted that the Slytherins had lost, he had tried to get everyone laughing at how a wide-mouthed tree frog would be replacing Harry as Seeker next. Then he'd realized that nobody found this funny, because they were all so impressed at the way Harry had managed to stay on his bucking broomstick. So Malfoy, jealous and angry, had gone back to taunting Harry about having no proper family. It was true that Harry wasn't going back to Privet Drive for Christmas.

Jack felt obligated to go to his home on Christmas; after all, poor Kreacher would have no one to spend time with.

However, he was presented with the task of finding who Nicholas Flamel was; he could not simply leave his friends while the Sorcerer's Stone was in danger of being stolen.

He began to write a letter to his elf back at home, explaining the situation they were facing.

"Paul!"

His trusty owl arrived form the high-shelves of Owlery.

"Take this to my house; Grimmauld Place." Jack told Paul while tying his letter to his feet.

Jack sighed. He had no other choice.

When they left the dungeons at the end of Potions, they found a large tree blocking the corridor ahead. Two enormous feet sticking out at the bottom and a loud puffing sound told them that Hagrid was behind it.

"Hi, Hagrid, want any help?" Ron asked, sticking his head through the branches.

"Nah, I'm all right, thanks, Ron."

"Would you mind moving out of the way?" came Malfoy's cold drawl from behind them. "Are you trying to earn some extra money, Weasley? Hoping to be gamekeeper yourself when you leave Hogwarts, I suppose - that hut of Hagrid's must seem like a palace compared to what your family's used to."

Ron dived at Malfoy just as Snape came up the stairs.

"WEASLEY!"

Ron let go of the front of Malfoy's robes.

"He was provoked, Professor Snape," said Hagrid, sticking his huge hairy face out from behind the tree. "Malfoy was insultin' his family."

"Be that as it may, fighting is against Hogwarts rules, Hagrid," said Snape silkily. "Five points from Gryffindor, Weasley, and be grateful it isn't more. Move along, all of you."

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle pushed roughly past the tree, scattering needles everywhere and smirking.

"I'll get him," said Ron, grinding his teeth at Malfoy's back, "one of these days, I'll get him -"

"I hate them both," said Harry, "Malfoy and Snape."

"Well, who doesn't?" Jack asked with raised eyebrows

"Come on, cheer up, it's nearly Christmas," said Hagrid. "Tell yeh what, come with me an' see the Great Hall, looks a treat."

So the four of them followed Hagrid and his tree off to -the Great Hall, where Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick were busy with the Christmas decorations.

"Ah, Hagrid, the last tree - put it in the far corner, would you?"

The hall looked spectacular. Festoons of holly and mistletoe hung all around the walls, and no less than twelve towering Christmas trees stood around the room, some sparkling with tiny icicles, some glittering with hundreds of candles.

"How many days you got left until yer holidays?" Hagrid asked.

"Just one," said Hermione. "And that reminds me - guys, we've got half an hour before lunch, we should be in the library."

"Oh yeah, you're right," said Ron, tearing his eyes away from Professor Flitwick, who had golden bubbles blossoming out of his wand and was trailing them over the branches of the new tree.

"The library?" said Hagrid, following them out of the hall. "Just before the holidays? Bit keen, aren't yeh?"

"Oh, we're not working," Harry told him brightly. "Ever since you mentioned Nicolas Flamel we've been trying to find out who he is."

"You what?" Hagrid looked shocked. "Listen here - I've told yeh - drop it. It's nothin' to you what that dog's guardin'."

"We just want to know who Nicolas Flamel is, that's all," said Hermione.

"Unless you'd like to tell us and save us the trouble?" Jack added.

"We must've been through hundreds of books already and we can't find him anywhere - just give us a hint - I know I've read his name somewhere." Harry continued.

"I'm sayin' nothin, said Hagrid flatly.

"Just have to find out for ourselves, then," said Ron, and they left Hagrid looking disgruntled and hurried off to the library.

They had indeed been searching books for Flamel's name ever since Hagrid had let it slip, because how else were they going to find out what Snape was trying to steal? The trouble was, it was very hard to know where to begin, not knowing what Flamel might have done to get himself into a book. He wasn't in Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century, or Notable Magical Names of Our Time; he was missing, too, from Important Modern Magical Discoveries, and A Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry. And then, of course, there was the sheer size of the library; tens of thousands of books; thousands of shelves; hundreds of narrow rows.

Hermione took out a list of subjects and titles she had decided to search while Ron strode off down a row of books and started pulling them off the shelves at random. Harry wandered over to the Restricted Section. He had been wondering for a while if Flamel wasn't somewhere in there. Unfortunately, you needed a specially signed note from one of the teachers to look in any of the restricted books, and he knew he'd never get one. These were the books containing powerful Dark Magic never taught at Hogwarts, and only read by older students studying advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"What are you looking for, boy?"

"Nothing," said Harry.

Madam Pince the librarian brandished a feather duster at him.

"You'd better get out, then. Go on - out!"

Wishing he'd been a bit quicker at thinking up some story, Harry left the library. He, Jack, Ron, and Hermione had already agreed they'd better not ask Madam Pince where they could find Flamel. They were sure she'd be able to tell them, but they couldn't risk Snape hearing what they were up to.

Jack shook his head. He felt as if they flipped the entire library upside down in search for this Flamel.

"You will keep looking while I'm away, won't you?" said Hermione. "And send me an owl if you find anything."

"And you could ask your parents if they know who Flamel is," said Ron. "It'd be safe to ask them."

"Very safe, as they're both dentists," said Hermione.

* * *

Once the holidays had started however, they were having too good a time to think much about Flamel. They had the dormitory to themselves and the common room was far emptier than usual, so they were able to get the good armchairs by the fire. They sat by the hour eating anything they could spear on a toasting fork - bread, English muffins, marshmallows - and plotting ways of getting Malfoy expelled, which were fun to talk about even if they wouldn't work.

Ron also started teaching Harry wizard chess. This was exactly like Muggle chess except that the figures were alive, which made it a lot like directing troops in battle. Ron's set was very old and battered. Like everything else he owned, it had once belonged to someone else in his family - in this case, his grandfather. However, old chessmen weren't a drawback at all. Ron knew them so well he never had trouble getting them to do what he wanted.

Jack's set was also worn; however more well-kept. He polished them often and took care of his pieces.

Harry played with chessmen Seamus Finnigan had lent him, and they didn't trust him at all. He wasn't a very good player yet and they kept shouting different bits of advice at him, which was confusing. "Don't send me there, can't you see his knight? Send him; we can afford to lose him."

At Christmas morning, Jack found presents from as expected; a homemade brownie (he loved brownie more than his Silver Arrow), and a Weasley sweater; a indigo hand-knitted sweater with a Large J.

"Merry Christmas," said Ron sleepily as Harry scrambled out of bed and pulled on his bathrobe.

"You, too," said Harry. "Will you look at this? I've got some presents!"

"What did you expect, turnips?" said Ron, turning to his own pile, which was a lot bigger than Harry's.

"I bet the muggles didn't give you much." Jack observed wisely.

Jack saw that Harry got a roughly cut wooden flute. Hagrid had obviously whittled it himself. Harry blew it - it sounded a bit like an owl.

Jack noticed a very small parcel contained a note.

Harry opened it. Inside contained a strange heptagonal shaped coin.

"That's friendly," said Harry.

Ron and Jack were fascinated by the fifty pence.

"Weird!" Ron said, 'What a shape! This is money?"

"You can keep it," said Harry, laughing at how pleased Ron was.

"No way Jose." Jack replied. "It's mine."

As they fought over who got the coin, Harry checked his next present.

"Hagrid and my aunt and uncle - so who sent these?"

"I think I know who that one's from," said Ron, turning a bit pink and pointing to a very lumpy parcel. "My mom. I told her you didn't expect any presents and - oh, no," he groaned, "she's made you a Weasley sweater."

Harry had torn open the parcel to find a thick, hand-knitted sweater in emerald green and a large box of homemade fudge.

"Every year she makes us a sweater," said Ron, "and mine's always maroon."

"That's really nice of her," said Harry, trying the fudge, which was very tasty. "Hey, Jack has one too!"

"Yeah." Ron replied while who took the coin triumphantly while Jack hung his head in shame. "He gets one every year too."

Having lost the great battle on who gets the muggle coin, he returned to his present.

Hmm... Sugarless candies from Hermione. Not bad. Perhaps he did not need to brush his teeth after eating this.

He opened his last parcel. It contained two mirrors. There was a note.

"Your Uncle left this at school. It was about time I returned it to you. A Merry Christmas to you."

Jack picked up the mirrors, examining them. He couldn't really find anything special about them...

Suddenly, Ron gasped sitting next to him staring at Harry's present.

"I've heard of those," he said in a hushed voice, dropping the box of Every Flavor Beans he'd gotten from Hermione. "If that's what I think it is - they're really rare, and really valuable."

"What is it?" Jack asked, interested.

Harry picked the shining, silvery cloth off the floor.

"It's an invisibility cloak," said Ron, a look of awe on his face. "I'm sure it is - try it on."

Harry threw the cloak around his shoulders and Ron gave a yell.

"It is! Look down!"

Harry looked down at his feet, but they were gone. He dashed to the mirror. Sure enough, his reflection looked back at him, just his head suspended in midair, his body completely invisible. He pulled the cloak over his head and his reflection vanished completely.

"Nice." Jack smiled.

"There's a note!" said Ron suddenly. "A note fell out of it!"

Harry pulled off the cloak and seized the letter. Harry stared at the note. Ron was admiring the cloak.

"I'd give anything for one of these," he said. "Anything. What's the matter?"

"Nothing," said Harry.

The dormitory door was flung open and Fred and George Weasley bounded in. Harry stuffed the cloak quickly out of sight.

"Merry Christmas!"

"Hey, look - Harry's got a Weasley sweater, too!"

Fred and George were wearing blue sweaters, one with a large yellow F on it, the other a G.

"Harry's is better than ours, though," said Fred, holding up Harry's sweater. "She obviously makes more of an effort if you're not family."

"Why aren't you wearing yours, Ron?" George demanded. "Come on, get it on, they're lovely and warm."

"I hate maroon," Ron moaned halfheartedly as he pulled it over his head.

"You haven't got a letter on yours," George observed. "I suppose she thinks you don't forget your name. But we're not stupid - we know we're called Gred and Forge."

"What's all this noise?"

Percy Weasley stuck his head through the door, looking disapproving. He had clearly gotten halfway through unwrapping his presents as he, too, carried a lumpy sweater over his arm, which Fred seized.

"P for prefect! Get it on, Percy, come on, we're all wearing ours, even Harry got one."

"I - don't - want said Percy thickly, as the twins forced the sweater over his head, knocking his glasses askew.

"And you're not sitting with the prefects today, either," said George. "Christmas is a time for family."

They frog-marched Percy from the room, his arms pinned to his side by his sweater.

Jack stared at Harry's cloak. He had been given Invisibility cloak also.

A family heirloom passed down ever since his great-grandfather bought it; it was given to his father rather than his Uncle, as his uncle has radical views and placed in Gryffindor.

He slowly took his Invisibility cloak out, gazing at the texture.

* * *

It was as if Jack died and went to heaven. A hundred fat, roast turkeys; mountains of roast and boiled potatoes; platters of chipolatas; tureens of buttered peas, silver boats of thick, rich gravy and cranberry sauce - and stacks of wizard crackers every few feet along the table.

Jack took one wizard cracker and pulled it with Ron; It went off in a loud cannon blast; they were enveloped in a cloud of blue smoke. To his delight, he got a Fedora Hat, a deck of self-shuffling cards, and a joke. He laughed hearty when he read the paper.

"Hey Professor Dumbledore!" Jack called out.

"Yes?" Dumbledore replied, capturing everybody else's attention.

"Listen to this joke I gotten from Cracker." Jack replied. He cleared his throat.

"Knock Knock." Jack started.

"Who is it?"

"Oh, you know..."

"You Know Who?"

"That's right! AVADA KEDAVRA!

Most people in the Great Hall laughed.

Flaming Christmas puddings followed the turkey. Percy nearly broke his teeth on a silver sickle embedded in his slice. They watched Hagrid getting redder and redder in the face as he called for more wine, finally kissing Professor McGonagall on the cheek, who, to Jack's wonder, giggled and blushed, her top hat lopsided.

Jack, Harry and the Weasleys spent a happy afternoon having a furious snowball fight on the grounds. Then, cold, wet, and gasping for breath, they returned to the fire in the Gryffindor common room, where Harry broke in his new chess set by losing spectacularly to Ron.

After a meal of turkey sandwiches, crumpets, trifle, and Christmas cake, everyone felt too full and sleepy to do much before bed except sit and watch Percy chase Fred and George all over Gryffindor tower because they'd stolen his prefect badge.

Jack, who was on verge on sleeping saw that Harry had something in his mind. He pretended to go to sleep, intending to find out what was going on. Ron, full of turkey and cake and with nothing mysterious to bother him, fell asleep almost as soon as he'd drawn the curtains of his four-poster.

Jack saw Harry leaning over the side of his own bed and pulling a cloak out from under it.

He saw Harry slipping out of bed and wrapping the cloak around himself. Looking down at his legs, he saw only moonlight and shadows.

Jack saw Harry creeping out of the dormitory, down the stairs, across the common room, and climbed through the portrait hole.

Eh, He thought. He probably wanted to use the cloak on his own. Nothing wrong with it... Jack curled down to sleep.

However, he had a funny feeling that Harry might get discovered...

A piercing, bloodcurdling shriek split the silence.

Jack groaned. Harry didn't even last 10 minutes before setting something off.

Sometimes he wanted to get a life insurance policy on Harry Potter.

* * *

Harry told them where he went the next day.

"You could have woken me up," said Ron, crossly.

"You can come tonight, I'm going back, and I want to show you the mirror."

"I'd like to see your mom and dad," Ron said eagerly.

"I'll come too." Jack replied, getting up from his bed.

"And I want to see all your family, all the Weasleys, you'll be able to show me your other brothers and everyone."

"You can see them any old time," said Ron. "Just come round my house this summer. Anyway, maybe it only shows dead people. Shame about not finding Flamel, though. Have some bacon or something, why aren't you eating anything?"

Harry didn't eat.

"You seem very preoccupied." Jack observed over his eggs and bacon.

"Are you all right?" said Ron. "You look odd."

That night, with Ron covered in the cloak too, they had to walk much more slowly the last night. Thankfully, Jack had this natural talent for staying invisible; therefore having no need of the cloak. They tried retracing Harry's route from the library, wandering around the dark passageways for nearly an hour.

"I'm freezing," said Ron. "Let's forget it and go back."

"No!" Harry hissed. I know it's here somewhere."

They passed the ghost of a tall witch gliding in the opposite direction, but saw no one else. just as Ron started moaning that his feet were dead with cold, Harry spotted the suit of armor.

"It's here - just here - yes!"

They pushed the door open. Harry dropped the cloak from around his shoulders and ran to the mirror.

Jack looked up and saw the words written over at the top of the mirror.

I show not your face but your heart's desire.

"See?" Harry whispered.

"I can't see anything."

"Me neither..." Jack replied frowning at the mirror.

"Look! Look at them all... there is loads of them..."

"I can only see you."

"Look in it properly, go on, and stand where I am."

Harry stepped aside, but with Ron in front of the mirror, he couldn't see his family anymore, just Ron in his paisley pajamas.

Ron, though, was staring transfixed at his image.

"Look at me!" he said.

"Can you see all your family standing around you?"

"No - I'm alone - but I'm different - I look older - and I'm head boy!"

"What?"

"The hell?"

"I am - I'm wearing the badge like Bill used to - and I'm holding the house cup and the Quidditch cup - I'm Quidditch captain, too."

"Let me see it." Jack interrupted, pushing to take a look at the mirror.

At first, he saw nothing.

Than he saw himself being deemed Warlock by Minister of Magic... Having more extensive knowledge of Arcane than anybody else...

"What do you see?" Harry breathed.

"I see myself... being a Warlock... being more powerful than Dumbledore and Dark Lord..."

He turned to look at Harry.

"This mirror is weird."

Ron tore his eyes away from his splendid sight to look excitedly at Harry.

"Do you think this mirror shows the future?"

"How can it? All my family are dead - let me have another look -"

"You had it to yourself all last night; give me a bit more time."

"You're only holding the Quidditch cup, what's interesting about that? I want to see my parents."

"Don't push me -"

A sudden noise outside in the corridor put an end to their discussion.

They hadn't realized how loudly they had been talking.

"Quick!"

Ron threw the cloak back over them. Jack threw his on over his body as the luminous eyes of Mrs. Norris came round the door. They stood quite still, all of them thinking the same thing - did the cloak work on cats?

After what seemed an age, she turned and left.

"This isn't safe - she might have gone for Filch, I bet she heard us. Come on."

And they went out of the room.

* * *

The snow still hadn't melted the next morning.

"Want to play chess, Harry?" said Ron.

"No."

"Why don't we go down and visit Hagrid?"

"No... you go..."

"Want to play Chappo with my Self-Shuffling cards?" Jack offered.

"No thanks."

"I know what you're thinking about, Harry, that mirror. Don't go back tonight." Ron replied.

"Why not?"

"I dunno, I've just got a bad feeling about it - and anyway, you've had too many close shaves already. Filch, Snape, and Mrs. Norris are wandering around. So what if they can't see you? What if they walk into you? What if you knock something over?"

"You sound like Hermione."

"I'm serious, Harry, don't go."

"We still have to investigate Nicholas," Jack added. "And that mirror gives off bad vibes.

But Jack knew that Harry only had one thought in his head, which was to get back in front of the mirror, and Ron or himself wasn't going to stop him.

That third night Harry went to see the mirror again, Jack decided to follow him.

He is doing this too much. If Jack was haunted by his desires, how stronger will Harry's needs be?

Harry went in the same room. He face seemed to be in content. He sat down in the front of the mirror, looking as if nothing could separate him from the mirror.

Except-

"So - back again, Harry?"

Jack eyes widened. Harry was caught - by Dumbledore.

"- I didn't see you, sir."

"Strange how nearsighted being invisible can make you," said Dumbledore, and Jack was relieved to see that he was smiling.

"So," said Dumbledore, slipping off the desk to sit on the floor with Harry, "you, like hundreds before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised."

"I didn't know it was called that, Sir."

"But I expect you've realized by now what it does?"

"It - well - it shows me my family -"

"And it showed your friend Ron himself as head boy."

"How did you know -?"

"I don't need a cloak to become invisible," said Dumbledore gently.

"Now, can you think what the Mirror of Erised shows us all?"

Harry shook his head.

"Let me explain. The happiest man on earth would be able to use the Mirror of Erised like a normal mirror, that is, he would look into it and see himself exactly as he is. Does that help?"

Harry thought. Then he said slowly, "It shows us what we want... whatever we want..."

"Yes and no," said Dumbledore quietly. "It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts. You, who have never known your family, see them standing around you. Ronald Weasley, who has always been overshadowed by his brothers, sees himself standing alone, the best of all of them. Jack Black, having deep thirst for the knowledge of the Arcane - perhaps deeper than of Ms. Granger herself - sees himself being more powerful Magician than me or Voldemort.

However, this mirror will give us neither knowledge nor truth. Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even possible.

"The Mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, Harry, and I ask you not to go looking for it again. If you ever do run across it, you will now be prepared. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that. Now, why don't you put that admirable cloak back on and get off to bed?"

Harry stood up.

"Sir - Professor Dumbledore? Can I ask you something?"

"Obviously, you've just done so," Dumbledore smiled. "You may ask me one more thing, however."

"What do you see when you look in the mirror?"

"I? I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks."

Harry stared.

"One can never have enough socks," said Dumbledore. "Another Christmas has come and gone and I didn't get a single pair. People will insist on giving me books."

After a moment, Harry turned and left.

Dumbledore turned to direction Jack was located.

He smiled.

"You too?"

Jack swallowed. "Yes sir." He took his cloak off.

"Marvelous gift that is..." Dumbledore contemplated, seeing the gift Jack was given. "However, I must also ask you to not to look around for the mirror. You did hear what I told Harry, I'm correct?"

"Yes sir."

He nodded. "Good, good..."

He stared at his watch.

"Time to turn in." He said with a little smile.

Jack nodded, and found himself back in four-poster bed.

He knew that Dumbldore was not being truthful when Harry asked him that question...

But then again, He thought. Some questions are better left unanswered.


	10. The Sorcerer

Jack sighed. He did not have a good night's sleep for 3 days.

Every time he went to sleep, he would be always woken by Harry's small screams in his nightmare.

He just had to be a light sleeper.

"You see, Dumbledore was right, that mirror could drive you mad," said Ron, when Harry told them about these dreams.

Hermione, who came back the day before term started, took a different view of things. She was torn between horror at the idea of Harry being out of bed, roaming the school three nights in a row ("If Filch had caught you!"), and disappointment that he hadn't at least found out who Nicolas Flamel was.

They had almost given up hope of ever finding Flamel in a library book, even though Harry was still sure he'd read the name somewhere.

Once term had started, they were back to skimming through books for ten minutes during their breaks. Harry had even less time than the other three, because Quidditch practice had started again.

Personally, Jack had theory that Harry had fewer nightmares when he came back exhausted from the Quidditch Practice.

Meanwhile, he still had no progress with the parchment he stole. He was beginning to think that it was almost useless. He would have already chucked it in a bin had it not shown that it had a brain of its own.

* * *

Chess was the only thing Hermione ever lost at, something Ron and Jack thought was something that she was good at.

"Don't talk to me for a moment," said Ron when Harry sat down next to him, "I need to concern -" He caught sight of Harry's face. "What's the matter with you? You look terrible."

Speaking quietly so that no one else would hear, Harry told the other three about Snape's sudden, sinister desire to be a Quidditch referee.

"Don't play," said Hermione at once.

"Say you're ill," said Ron.

"Pretend to break your leg," Jack suggested.

"Really break your leg," said Ron.

"I can't," said Harry. "There isn't a reserve Seeker. If I back out, Gryffindor can't play at all."

At that moment Neville toppled into the common room. How he had managed to climb through the portrait hole was anyone's guess, because his legs had been stuck together with what they recognized at once as the Leg-Locker Curse. He must have had to bunny hop all the way up to Gryffindor tower.

Everyone fell over laughing except Hermione, who leapt up and performed the countercurse. Neville's legs sprang apart and he got to his feet, trembling. "What happened?" Hermione asked him, leading him over to sit with others.

"Malfoy," said Neville shakily. "I met him outside the library. He said he'd been looking for someone to practice that on."

"Go to Professor McGonagall!" Hermione urged Neville. "Report him!"

Neville shook his head.

"I don't want more trouble," he mumbled.

"You've got to stand up to him, Neville!" said Ron. "He's used to walking all over people, but that's no reason to lie down in front of him and make it easier."

"Besides, at least you can get him in detention for it." said Jack.

"There's no need to tell me I'm not brave enough to be in Gryffindor, Malfoy's already done that," Neville choked out.

Harry felt in the pocket of his robes and pulled out a Chocolate Frog. He gave it to Neville, who looked as though he might cry.

"You're worth twelve of Malfoy," Harry said. "The Sorting Hat chose you for Gryffindor, didn't it? And where's Malfoy? In stinking Slytherin."

Neville's lips twitched in a weak smile as he unwrapped the frog.

"Thanks, Harry... I think I'll go to bed... D'you want the card, you collect them, don't you?"

As Neville walked away, Harry looked at the Famous Wizard card.

"Dumbledore again," he said, "He was the first one I ever-"

He gasped. He stared at the back of the card. Then he looked up at Ron, Jack and Hermione.

"I've found him!" he whispered. "I've found Flamel! I told you I'd read the name somewhere before, I read it on the train coming here - listen to this: 'Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel!"

Hermione jumped to her feet. She hadn't looked so excited since they gotten back the marks for their very first piece of homework.

"Stay there!" she said, and she sprinted up the stairs to the girls' dormitories. They barely had time to exchange mystified looks before she was dashing back, an enormous old book in her arms.

"I never thought to look in here!" she whispered excitedly. "I got this out of the library weeks ago for a bit of light reading."

"Light?" said Ron, but Hermione told him to be quiet until she'd looked something up, and started flicking frantically through the pages, muttering to herself.

At last she found what she was looking for.

"I knew it! I knew it!"

"Are we allowed to speak yet?" said Ron grumpily. Hermione ignored him.

"Nicolas Flamel," she whispered dramatically, "is the only known maker of the Sorcerer's Stone!"

Jack's eyes widened. "The Sorcerer's Stone?"

"The what?" said Harry and Ron.

"Oh, honestly, don't you two read? Look - read that, there."

She pushed the book toward them, and Harry and Ron read: "The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with making the Sorcerer's Stone, a legendary substance with astonishing powers. The stone will transform any metal-"

"-into pure gold. It also produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal." said Jack, awed. "He must have been a genius!"

There have been many reports of the Sorcerer's Stone over the centuries, but the only Stone currently in existence belongs to Mr. Nicolas Flamel, the noted alchemist and opera lover. Mr. Flamel, who celebrated his six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday, last year, enjoys a quiet life in Devon with his wife, Perenelle (six hundred and fifty-eight).

"See?" said Hermione, when Harry and Ron had finished. "The dog must be guarding Flamel's Sorcerer's Stone! I bet he asked Dumbledore to keep it safe for him, because they're friends and he knew someone was after it, that's why he wanted the Stone moved out of Gringotts!"

"A stone that makes gold and stops you from ever dying!" said Harry. "No wonder Snape's after it! Anyone would want it."

"And no wonder we couldn't find Flamel in that Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry," said Ron. "He's not exactly recent if he's six hundred and sixty-five, is he?"

* * *

The next morning in Defense Against the Dark Arts, while copying down different ways of treating werewolf bites, they were still discussing what they'd do with a Sorcerer's Stone if they had one. It wasn't until Ron said he'd buy his own Quidditch team that Harry remembered about Snape and the coming match.

"I'm going to play," he told Ron and Hermione. "If I don't, all the Slytherins will think I'm just too scared to face Snape. I'll show them... it'll really wipe the smiles off their faces if we win."

"Just as long as we're not wiping you off the field," said Hermione.

"Or scrubbing you off the field." said Jack.

Inside his mind, Jack did worry about Harry's health; or life. Last time he could have fallen from fifty foot up in the air. Who knows what was in store for Harry.

Yes, dying from Quidditch was rare, but with that luck Harry had... it was either extremely lucky or extremely unlucky.

As he headed out to the Quidditch Field, he saw Dumbledore present on the middle tower. Relief washed over him. Perhaps Snape would think twice before trying to jinx a broom.

Perhaps that was why Snape was looking so angry as the teams marched onto the field, something that Ron noticed, too.

"I've never seen Snape look so mean," he told Jack. "Look -they're off; ouch!"

Someone had poked Ron in the back of the head. It was Malfoy.

"Oh, sorry, Weasley, didn't see you there."

Malfoy grinned broadly at Crabbe and Goyle.

"Wonder how long Potter's going to stay on his broom this time? Anyone want a bet? What about you, Weasley?"

Ron didn't answer; Snape had just awarded Hufflepuff a penalty because George Weasley had hit a Bludger at him. Hermione, who had all her fingers crossed in her lap, was squinting fixedly at Harry, who was circling the game like a hawk, looking for the Snitch.

"You know how I think they choose people for the Gryffindor team?" said Malfoy loudly a few minutes later, as Snape awarded Hufflepuff another penalty for no reason at all. "It's people they feel sorry for. See, there's Potter, who's got no parents, then there's the Weasleys, who've got no money - you should be on the team, Longbottom, you've got no brains."

Neville went bright red but turned in his seat to face Malfoy.

"I'm worth twelve of you, Malfoy," he stammered.

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle howled with laughter, but Ron, still not daring to take his eyes from the game, said, "You tell him, Neville."

"Longbottom, if brains were gold you'd be poorer than Weasley, and that's saying something."

Ron's nerves were already stretched to the breaking point with anxiety about Harry.

"I'm warning you, Malfoy - one more word -"

"Guys!" said Hermione suddenly, "Harry -"

"What? Where?"

Harry had suddenly gone into a spectacular dive, which drew gasps and cheers from the crowd. Hermione stood up, her crossed fingers in her mouth, as Harry streaked toward the ground like a bullet.

"You're in luck, Weasley, Potter's obviously spotted some money on the ground!" said Malfoy.

Ron snapped. Before Malfoy knew what was happening, Ron was on top of him, wrestling him to the ground. Neville hesitated, and then clambered over the back of his seat to help. Jack whooped and dived in, tackling Malfoy.

"Come on, Harry!" Hermione screamed, leaping onto her seat to watch as Harry sped straight at Snape - she didn't even notice that 6 boys were rolling around under her seat, or the scuffles and yelps coming from the whirl of fists that was Neville, Crabbe, and Goyle.

Up in the air, Snape turned on his broomstick just in time to see something scarlet shoot past him, missing him by inches - the next second, Harry had pulled out of the dive, his arm raised in triumph, the Snitch clasped in his hand.

The stands erupted; it had to be a record, no one could ever remember the Snitch being caught so quickly.

"Ron! Jack! Where are you? The game's over! Harry's won! We've won! Gryffindor is in the lead!" shrieked Hermione, dancing up and down on her seat and hugging Parvati Patil in the row in front.

Jack stood up for a moment to whistle; then he rejoined the fight.

Snape spat bitterly on the ground.

Triumphant with victory, Gryffindors lifted the whole team up and carried them into the Castle.

Jack was right there with them, celebrating the lead Gryffindor made.

Until...

He looked around the crowd for signs of Harry.

"Hey Hermione," Jack asked. "Where is Harry?"

Hermione looked around. She frowned.

"I don't see him anywhere..."

"Leave it to Harry to disappear suddenly." Jack groaned. "He probably is getting in trouble again."

The search was over when Harry trotted back into the Gryffindor Tower.

"Harry, where have you been?" Hermione squeaked.

"We won! You won! We won!" shouted Ron, thumping Harry on the back. "And I gave Malfoy a black eye, and Neville tried to take on Crabbe and Goyle single-handed! He's still out cold but Madam Pomfrey says he'll be all right - talk about showing Slytherin! Everyone's waiting for you in the common room, we're having a party, Fred and George stole some cakes and stuff from the kitchens."

"I gave Goyle and Crabbe both a beating." Jack piped.

"Never mind that now," said Harry breathlessly. "Let's find an empty room; you wait 'til you hear this..."

He made sure Peeves wasn't inside before shutting the door behind them, and then he told them what he'd seen and heard.

"I was celebrating when I noticed Snape sneaking toward to the Forbbiden Forest. I climbed back on my broom and followed him into the Forrest when Snape met Quirrell in the forest. Than Quirrell asked Snape the reason why they were meeting in a forest. Snape replied that Students are not supposed to know about the stone. Then he asked if Quirrell figured out how to get past Fluffy. Quirrell began to stutter an answer, but at that moment I slipped and almost fell off the broom. Due to panic and some stray owl, I was only able to hear Snape's reply to Quirrell's answer, something about hocus-pocuss… Then Snape said they will talk again another time."

"So we were right," Jack observed. "it is the Sorcerer's Stone, and Snape's trying to force Quirrell to help him get it. He asked if he knew how to get past Fluffy - and he said something about Quirrell's 'hocus pocuss'- I reckon there are other things guarding the stone apart from Fluffy, loads of enchantments, probably, and Quirrell would have done some anti-Dark Arts spell that Snape needs to break through -"

"So you mean the Stone's only safe as long as Quirrell stands up to Snape?" said Hermione in alarm.

"It'll be gone by next Tuesday," said Ron.


	11. The Dragon

Over the following weeks however, Ron's prediction have been proven false.

Quirrell seem to have not snapped under pressure yet, however thinner and wearier he seemed over the days.

Harry began to give encouraging smile whenever he saw Quirrell. Ron began to tell people off for making fun of Quirrell.

However...

The a small bit of mind in the back of Jack's head seemed to constantly whisper that he was mistaken. That Snape was not the one to steal the stone.

He tried to ignore it.

Hermione, however, had more on her mind than the Sorcerer's Stone. She had started drawing up study schedules and color-coding all her notes.

The rest of the gang wouldn't have minded, but she kept nagging them to do the same.

"Hermione, the exams are ages away."

"Ten weeks," Hermione snapped. "That's not ages, that's like a second to Nicolas Flamel."

"But we're not six hundred years old," Ron reminded her. "Anyway, what are you studying for, you already know it all."

"What am I studying for? Are you crazy? You realize we need to pass these exams to get into the second year? They're very important, I should have started studying a month ago, I don't know what's gotten into me..."

"I know everything and I don't bother studying..." Jack muttered.

Unfortunately, the teachers seemed to be thinking along the same lines as Hermione. They piled so much homework on them that the Easter holidays weren't nearly as much fun as the Christmas ones. It was hard to relax with Hermione next to you reciting the twelve uses of dragon's blood or practicing wand movements. Moaning and yawning, Harry, Ron and Jack spent most of their free time in the library with her, trying to get through all their extra work.

"I'll never remember this," Ron burst out one afternoon, throwing down his quill and looking longingly out of the library window. It was the first really fine day they'd had in months. The sky was a clear, forget-me-not blue, and there was a feeling in the air of summer coming.

Harry, who was looking up "Dittany" in One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, didn't look up until he heard Ron say, "Hagrid! What are you doing in the library?"

Hagrid shuffled into view, hiding something behind his back. He looked very out of place in his moleskin overcoat.

"Jus' lookin'," he said, in a shifty voice that got their interest at once. "An' what're you lot up ter?" He looked suddenly suspicious. "Yer not still lookin' fer Nicolas Flamel, are yeh?"

"Oh, we found out who he is ages ago," said Ron impressively. "And we know what that dog's guarding, it's a Sorcerer's St -"

"Shhhh!" Hagrid looked around quickly to see if anyone was listening. "Don' go shoutin' about it, what's the matter with yeh?"

"There are a few things we wanted to ask you, as a matter of fact," said Harry, "about what's guarding the Stone apart from Fluffy."

"Yeah, we need to know what other defenses are." Jack continued.

"SHHHH!" said Hagrid again. "Listen - come an' see me later, I'm not promisin' I'll tell yeh anythin', mind, but don' go rabbitin' about it in here, students aren' s'pposed ter know. They'll think I've told yeh -"

"See you later, then," said Harry.

Hagrid shuffled off.

"What was he hiding behind his back?" said Hermione thoughtfully.

"Do you think it had anything to do with the Stone?"

"I'm going to see what section he was in," said Ron, who'd had enough of working. He came back a minute later with a pile of books in his arms and slammed them down on the table.

"Dragons!" he whispered. "Hagrid was looking up stuff about dragons!

Look at these: Dragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland; From Egg to Inferno, A Dragon Keeper's Guide."

"Hagrid's always wanted a dragon, he told me so the first time I ever met him," said Harry.

"But it's against our laws," said Ron. "Dragon breeding was outlawed by the Warlocks' Convention of 1709, everyone knows that. It's hard to stop Muggles from noticing us if we're keeping dragons in the back garden - anyway, you can't tame dragons, it's dangerous. You should see the burns Charlie's got off wild ones in Romania."

"But there aren't wild dragons in Britain?" said Harry.

"Of course there are," said Ron. "Common Welsh Green and Hebridean Blacks. The Ministry of Magic has a job hushing them up, I can tell you. Our kinds have to keep putting spells on Muggles who've spotted them, to make them forget."

"So what on earths Hagrid up to?" said Hermione.

"I don't want to fathom the very idea... but to me, I think Hagrid got a dragon egg." Jack observed. "How he got it, I don't know..."

When they knocked on the door of the gamekeeper's hut an hour later, they were surprised to see that all the curtains were closed. Hagrid called "Who is it?" before he let them in, and then shut the door quickly behind them.

It was stifling hot inside. Even though it was such a warm day, there was a blazing fire in the grate. Hagrid made them tea and offered them stoat sandwiches, which they refused.

"So - yeh wanted to ask me somethin'?"

"Yes," said Harry. There was no point beating around the bush. "We were wondering if you could tell us what's guarding the Sorcerer's Stone apart from Fluffy."

Hagrid frowned at him.

"o' course I cant, he said. "Number one, I don' know meself. Number two, yeh know too much already, so I wouldn' tell yeh if I could. That Stone's here fer a good reason. It was almost stolen outta Gringotts - I s'ppose yeh've worked that out an' all? Beats me how yeh even know abou' Fluffy."

"Oh, come on, Hagrid, you might not want to tell us, but you do know, you know everything that goes on round here," said Hermione in a warm, flattering voice. Hagrid's beard twitched and they could tell he was smiling. "We only wondered who had done the guarding, really." Hermione went on. "We wondered who Dumbledore had trusted enough to help him, apart from you."

Hagrid's chest swelled at these last words. Harry and Ron beamed at Hermione.

Jack raised his eyebrows. Contradicting his first thought, Hermione could be very valuable in his quest to cement his status as Prank God.

"Well, I don' s'pose it could hurt ter tell yeh that... let's see... he borrowed Fluffy from me... then some o' the teachers did enchantments... Professor Sprout - Professor Flitwick - Professor McGonagall -" he ticked them off on his fingers, "Professor Quirrell - an' Dumbledore himself did somethin', o' course. Hang on, I've forgotten someone. Oh yeah, Professor Snape."

"Snape?"

"Yeah - yer not still on abou' that, are yeh? Look, Snape helped

protect the Stone, he's not about ter steal it."

Jack knew others were thinking the same as he was. If Snape had been in on protecting the Stone, it must have been easy to find out how the other teachers had guarded it. He probably knew everything - except, it seemed, Quirrell's spell and how to get past Fluffy.

"You're the only one who knows how to get past Fluffy. Aren't you, Hagrid?" said Harry anxiously. "And you wouldn't tell anyone, would you? Not even one of the teachers?"

"Not a soul knows except me an' Dumbledore," said Hagrid proudly.

"Well, that's something," Harry muttered to the others.

"Hagrid, can we have a window open? I'm boiling." Jack said grimacing at the state of his robes.

"Can't, Jack, sorry," said Hagrid. Hagrid seemed to glance in at the fire; Jack took a look also.

"Hagrid - what's that?"

But he already knew what it was. In the very heart of the fire, underneath the kettle, was a huge, black egg.

"Ah," said Hagrid, fiddling nervously with his beard, "That's er..."

"Where did you get it, Hagrid?" said Ron, crouching over the fire to get a closer look at the egg. "It must've cost you a fortune."

"Won it," said Hagrid. "Las' night. I was down in the village havin' a few drinks an' got into a game o' cards with a stranger. Think he was quite glad ter get rid of it, ter be honest."

"Well of course, it's illegal and you have to have proper place for it to hatch..." Jack glanced at the wooden hut. "Which you don't have."

"But what are you going to do with it when it's hatched?" said Hermione.

"Well, I've bin doin' some readin' , said Hagrid, pulling a large book from under his pillow. "Got this outta the library - Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit - it's a bit outta date, o' course, but it's all in here. Keep the egg in the fire, 'cause their mothers breathe on I em, see, an' when it hatches, feed it on a bucket o' brandy mixed with chicken blood every half hour. An' see here - how ter recognize diff'rent eggs - what I got there's a Norwegian Ridgeback. They'rerare, them."

"I really gotta hand it to you Hagrid." Jack was grinning. "I always wanted a dragon also."

He looked very pleased with himself, but Hermione didn't.

"Hagrid, you live in a wooden house," she said.

But Hagrid wasn't listening. He was humming merrily as he stoked the fire.

"Ahh, let him have his moment." Jack said, staring at the egg with gleam in his eyes.

So now they had something else to worry about: what might happen to Hagrid if anyone found out he was hiding an illegal dragon in his hut.

"Wonder what it's like to have a peaceful life," Ron sighed, as evening after evening they struggled through all the extra homework they were getting. Hermione had now started making study schedules for Harry and Ron, too. It was driving them nuts.

"Peaceful?" Jack raised his eyebrows. "I promise you, these 7 years in this castle will be the most chaotic time you will have in your lives."

Then, one breakfast time, Hedwig brought Harry another note from Hagrid. He had written only two words: Its hatching.

Ron wanted to skip Herbology and go straight down to the hut. Hermione wouldn't hear of it.

"Hermione, how many times in our lives are we going to see a dragon hatching?"

"We've got lessons, we'll get into trouble, and that's nothing to what Hagrid's going to be in when someone finds out what he's doing -"

"Shut up!" Harry whispered.

Malfoy was only a few feet away and he had stopped dead to listen. How much had he heard?

Harry didn't like the look on Malfoy's face at all. Ron and Hermione argued all the way to Herbology and in the end, Hermione agreed to run down to Hagrid's with the other two during morning break. When the bell sounded from the castle at the end of their lesson, the four of them dropped their trowels at once and hurried through the grounds to the edge of the forest. Hagrid greeted them, looking flushed and excited.

"It's nearly out." He ushered them inside.

The egg was lying on the table. There were deep cracks in it. Something was moving inside; a funny clicking noise was coming from it. They all drew their chairs up to the table and watched with bated breath.

All at once there was a scraping noise and the egg split open. The baby dragon flopped onto the table. It wasn't exactly pretty; Harry thought it looked like a crumpled, black umbrella. Its spiny wings were huge compared to its skinny jet body; it had a long snout with wide nostrils, the stubs of horns and bulging, orange eyes.

It sneezed. A couple of sparks flew out of its snout.

"Isn't he beautiful?" Hagrid murmured. He reached out a hand to stroke the dragon's head. It snapped at his fingers, showing pointed fangs.

"Yes he is..." Jack breathed as he watched the baby dragon. "Great pity I did not bring my camera."

"Bless him, look, he knows his mommy!" said Hagrid.

"Hagrid," said Hermione, "how fast do Norwegian Ridgebacks grow, exactly?"

Hagrid was about to answer when the color suddenly drained from his face - he leapt to his feet and ran to the window.

"What's the matter?"

"Someone was lookin' through the gap in the curtains - it's a kid - he's runnin' back up ter the school."

Harry bolted to the door and looked out. Even at a distance there was no mistaking him.

Malfoy had seen the dragon.

Something about the smile lurking on Malfoy's face during the next week made Harry, Ron, and Hermione very nervous. They spent most of their free time in Hagrid's darkened hut, trying to reason with him.

"Just let him go," Harry urged. "Set him free."

"I can't," said Hagrid. "He's too little. He'd die."

They looked at the dragon.

* * *

It had grown three times in length in just a week. Smoke kept furling out of its nostrils. Hagrid hadn't been doing his gamekeeping duties because the dragon was keeping him so busy. There were empty brandy bottles and chicken feathers all over the floor.

"I've decided to call him Norbert," said Hagrid, looking at the dragon with misty eyes. "He really knows me now, watch. Norbert! Norbert! Where's Mommy?"

"I think the dragon is female Hagrid." Jack said, uncertain.

"He's lost his marbles," Ron muttered in Harry's ear.

"Hagrid," said Harry loudly, "give it two weeks and Norbert's going to be as long as your house. Malfoy could go to Dumbledore at any moment."

Hagrid bit his lip.

"I - I know I can't keep him forever, but I can't jus' dump him, I can't."

Harry suddenly turned to Ron.

"Charlie!"

"You're losing it, too," said Ron. "I'm Ron, remember?"

"No - Charlie - your brother, Charlie. In Romania. Studying dragons. We could send Norbert to him. Charlie can take care of him and then put him back in the wild!"

"Brilliant!" said Ron. "How about it, Hagrid?"

And in the end, Hagrid agreed that they could send -an owl to Charlie to ask him.

The following week dragged by. Wednesday night found Hermione and Jack sitting alone in the common room, long after everyone else had gone to bed. The clock on the wall had just chimed midnight when the portrait hole burst open. Ron and harry appeared out of nowhere as they pulled off Harry's invisibility cloak. They had been down at Hagrid's hut, helping him feed Norbert, who was now eating dead rats by the crate.

"It bit me!" he said, showing them his hand, which was wrapped in a bloody handkerchief. "I'm not going to be able to hold a quill for a week. I tell you, that dragon's the most horrible animal I've ever met, but the way Hagrid goes on about it, you'd think it was a fluffy little bunny rabbit. When it bit me he told me off for frightening it. And when we left, he was singing it a lullaby."

There was a tap on the dark window.

"It's Hedwig!" said Harry, hurrying to let her in. "She'll have Charlie's answer!"

The four of them put their heads together to read the note.

_**Dear Ron,**_

_**How are you? Thanks for the letter - I'd be glad to take the**_

_**Norwegian Ridgeback, but it won't be easy getting him here.**_

_**I think the best thing will be to send him over with some friends**_

_**of mine who are coming to visit me next week. Trouble is, they**_

_**mustn't be seen carrying an illegal dragon. Could you get the**_

_**Ridgeback up the tallest tower at midnight on Saturday? They**_

_**can meet you there and take him away while it's still dark.**_

_**Send me an answer as soon as possible.**_

_**Love,**_

_**Charlie**_

They looked at one another.

"We've got the invisibility cloak," said Harry. "It shouldn't be too difficult - I think the cloaks big enough to cover two of us and Norbert."

"I'll bring mine." stated Jack at once.

It was a mark of how bad the last week had been that the other three agreed with Harry. Anything to get rid of Norbert - and Malfoy.

There was a hitch. By the next morning, Ron's bitten hand had swollen to twice its usual size. He didn't know whether it was safe to go to Madam Pomfrey - would she recognize a dragon bite? By the afternoon, though, he had no choice. The cut had turned a nasty shade of green. It looked as if Norbert's fangs were poisonous.

Harry and Hermione rushed up to the hospital wing at the end of the day to find Ron in a terrible state in bed.

"It's not just my hand," he whispered, "although that feels like it's about to fall off. Malfoy told Madam Pomfrey he wanted to borrow one of my books so he could come and have a good laugh at me. He kept threatening to tell her what really bit me - I've told her it was a dog, but I don't think she believes me -I shouldn't have hit him at the Quidditch match, that's why he's doing this."

Harry and Hermione tried to calm Ron down.

"He is just being a git." Jack muttered.

"It'll all be over at midnight on Saturday," said Hermione, but this didn't soothe Ron at all. On the contrary, he sat bolt upright and broke into a sweat.

"Midnight on Saturday!" he said in a hoarse voice. "Oh no oh no - I've just remembered - Charlie's letter was in that book Malfoy took, he's going to know we're getting rid of Norbert."

They didn't get a chance to answer. Madam Pomfrey came over at that moment and made them leave, saying Ron needed sleep. "It's too late to change the plan now," Harry told Hermione and Jack. "We haven't got time to send Charlie another owl, and this could be our only chance to get rid of Norbert. We'll have to risk it. And we have got the invisibility cloak, Malfoy doesn't know about that."

They found Fang, the boarhound, sitting outside with a bandaged tail when they went to tell Hagrid, who opened a window to talk to them. "I won't let you in," he puffed. "Norbert's at a tricky stage - nothin' I can't handle."

When they told him about Charlie's letter, his eyes filled with tears, although that might have been because Norbert had just bitten him on the leg.

"Aargh! It's all right, he only got my boot - jus' playin' - he's only a baby, after all."

The baby banged its tail on the wall, making the windows rattle. The three of them walked back to the castle feeling Saturday couldn't come quickly enough.

They would have felt sorry for Hagrid when the time came for him to say good-bye to Norbert if they hadn't been so worried about what they had to do. It was a very dark, cloudy night, and they were a bit late arriving at Hagrid's hut because they'd had to wait for Peeves to get out of their way in the entrance hall, where he'd been playing tennis against the wall. Hagrid had Norbert packed and ready in a large crate.

"He's got lots o' rats an' some brandy fer the journey," said Hagrid in a muffled voice. "An' I've packed his teddy bear in case he gets lonely."

"Ok, I am beginning to see what you meant when you said Hagrid lost it." Jack muttered, aghast at stuff Hagrid was putting into he crate.

From inside the crate came ripping noises that sounded to Harry as though the teddy was having his head torn off.

"Bye-bye, Norbert!" Hagrid sobbed, as Harry and Hermione covered the crate with the invisibility cloak and stepped underneath it themselves.

"Mommy will never forget you!"

How they managed to get the crate back up to the castle, they never knew. Midnight ticked nearer as they heaved Norbert up the marble staircase in the entrance hall and along the dark corridors. UP another staircase, then another - even one of Harry's shortcuts didn't make the work much easier.

"Nearly there!" Harry panted as they reached the corridor beneath the tallest tower.

Then sudden movements ahead of them made them almost drop the crate. Forgetting that they were already invisible, they shrank into the shadows, staring at the dark outlines of two people grappling with each other ten feet away. A lamp flared.

Professor McGonagall, in a tartan bathrobe and a hair net, had Malfoy by the ear.

"Detention!" she shouted. "And twenty points from Slytherin! Wandering around in the middle of the night, how dare you -"

"You don't understand, Professor. Harry Potter's coming - he's got a dragon!"

"What utter rubbish! How dare you tell such lies! Come on - I shall see Professor Snape about you, Malfoy!"

The steep spiral staircase up to the top of the tower seemed the easiest thing in the world after that. Not until they'd stepped out into the cold night air did they throw off the cloak, glad to be able to breathe properly again. Hermione did a sort of jig.

"Malfoy's got detention! I could sing!"

"Don't," Harry advised her.

"I wouldn't mind." Jack muttered.

Chuckling about Malfoy, they waited, Norbert thrashing about in his crate. About ten minutes later, four broomsticks came swooping down out of the darkness.

"You go ahead." Jack whispered. "I'll stand guard."

Charlie's friends were a cheery lot. They showed Harry and Jack the harness they'd rigged up, so they could suspend Norbert between them.

They all helped buckle Norbert safely into it and then Harry, Hermione and Jack shook hands with the others and thanked them very much.

At last, Norbert was going... going... gone.

"Finally..." Jack muttered.

They slipped back down the spiral staircase, their hearts as light as their hands, now that Norbert was off them. No more dragon - Malfoy in detention - what could spoil their happiness?

The answer to that was waiting at the foot of the stairs. As they stepped into the corridor, Filch's face loomed suddenly out of the darkness.

"Well, well, well," he whispered, "we are in trouble."

Jack cursed under his breath.

Harry and Hermione left the invisibility cloak on top of the tower.


	12. The Girl

They got into so much trouble.

Filch took Harry and Hermione down to Professor McGonagall's study on the first floor, while Jack just stood there on the tower, stunned.

Great, the "Potter Luck" was acting against their accord. Without doubt, Gryffindor will have lost like 150 points.

Unfortunately, he was right on target.

"Fifty points - _each_!" whispered Jack furiously while Harry lay down, miserable from the events minutes before.

"Yes." Harry breathed a reply.

Jack grimaced. He wouldn't be surprised if everybody Gryffindor despised Harry tomorrow.

As for him... he couldn't wait to sleep... aching headache... throbbing veins...

He was falling...

He opened his eyes.

He was in an unused classroom on third floor.

He tried to speak, but no words came out.

A blonde girl, (Ravenclaw, it looked like) was being surrounded by a gang of girls.

"Now listen here, _Loony_, we are sick and tired of listening to you babbling about nargles or Snorkack or whatever your dotty mind comes up with; being a disgrace to-"

"It's not just Snorkack, its Crumple-Horned-"

"Whatever! Your mental illness has been a constant mockery to the House of Ravenclaw. You gone off of the deep end ever since your mum blew her-self up in some crack-pot experiment-"

"Don't say that!"

Her usual dreamy expression was replaced with ones of ice; she promptly kicked the nearest girl in the shins.

"Ow! Why you little... Girls, lets trap her inside this cabinet. That'll be fun."

Her expression turned into ones of fear as they began to shove her into the small cabinet.

"No! Wait! Please! Don't trap me in here!"

Ignoring her plea, they shoved her inside the cabinet and locked the door. The cabinet began to shake.

"No! No! Pleeeaasssee!"

She began to scream.

"!"

* * *

"Mate! Mate! Harry, do something!"

Jack snapped his eyes open.

"Something wrong?" Ron was staring at him wide eyed at the racket he made.

Jack panted. He tried to calm his nerves.

"When did you come back?"

"Madam Pomfrey fixed my hand for me. And why were you screaming?"

"...Nothing."

_Was it a dream or was it a sign?_

"Hey, uh Ron. I need to go ask Professor McGonagall about the... homework we had to do. See you."

Jack hurriedly put on his cloak and ran.

* * *

Fifth Floor… Fourth Floor... Third Floor.

The stairs couldn't turn fast enough for Jack. He hurriedly ran into the unused classroom.

The cabinet was not shaking.

Jack slowly crept up to the cabinet and tried to open it.

It was locked. Of course.

_Alohomora!_

The cabinet door swung open.

There, sitting on the floor of the cabinet in fetal position, was a girl.

She had straggly, waist-length, dirty blonde hair, very pale eyebrows, and protuberant eyes that gave her a permanently surprised look. The girl gave off an aura of distinct madness.  
She was constantly whimpering, not bothering to recognize that a guy just opened the cabinet she was trapped in.

"They'll let me out, they'll let me out, it's just a joke..."

She was constantly muttering dangerously, her eyes determinately on the floor.

_...This is madness._

He promptly began to shake the girl.

"Hey… hey."

The girl looked up. Her eyes were blank.

"...Who are you?"

Jack hesitated before answering.

"Jack Black. What's yours?"

Her eyes stayed constantly on his face.

"...Luna. Luna Lovegood."

* * *

At first, Gryffindors passing the giant hourglasses that recorded the house points the next day thought there'd been a mistake. How could they suddenly have a hundred and fifty points fewer than yesterday? And then the story started to spread: Harry Potter, the famous Harry Potter, their hero of two Quidditch matches, had lost them all those points, him and a couple of other stupid first years.

From being one of the most popular and admired people at the school, Harry was suddenly the most hated. Even Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs turned on him, because everyone had been longing to see Slytherin lose the house cup. Everywhere Harry went, people pointed and didn't trouble to lower their voices as they insulted him. Slytherins, on the other hand, clapped as he walked past them, whistling and cheering, "Thanks Potter, we owe you one!"

Only Ron and Jack stood by him.

"They'll all forget this in a few weeks. Fred and George have lost loads of points in all the time they've been here, and people still like them."

"They've never lost a hundred and fifty points in one go, though, have they?" said Harry miserably.

"Well - no," Ron admitted.

"Still, it's not our fault; we had to send that dragon away in order to keep Hagrid out of trouble." Jack encouraged. "Although 150 points is a lot..." Jack frowned. "I bet Hagrid regrets keeping the dragon now."

Harry, Hermione and Nevile were all suffering. Those two did not receive as many remarks and jeers as Harry did, given that they were not very well known, however others still did not speak to them.

Harry went back to the library, where Hermione was testing Ron on Astronomy. Harry told them what he'd heard.

"I heard Quirrell being threatened. I think Quirrell gave in at last. He left trying not to cry." Harry said, frowning. "What now?"

"Snape's done it, then!" said Ron. "If Quirrell's told him how to break his Anti-Dark Force spell -"

"There's still Fluffy, though," said Hermione.

"Maybe Snape's found out how to get past him without asking Hagrid," said Jack, looking up at the thousands of books surrounding them. "I bet there's a book somewhere in here telling you how to get past a giant three-headed dog. So what do we do, Harry?"

The light of adventure was kindling again in Jack's eyes, but Hermione answered before Harry could.

"Go to Dumbledore. That's what we should have done ages ago. If we try anything ourselves we'll be thrown out for sure."

"But we've got no proof!" said Harry. "Quirrell's too scared to back us up. Snape's only got to say he doesn't know how the troll got in at Halloween and that he was nowhere near the third floor - who do you think they'll believe, him or us? It's not exactly a secret we hate him, Dumbledore will think we made it up to get him sacked. Filch wouldn't help us if his life depended on it, he's too friendly with Snape, and the more students get thrown out, the better, he'll think. And don't forget, we're not supposed to know about the Stone or Fluffy. That'll take a lot of explaining."

Hermione looked convinced, but Ron didn't.

"If we just do a bit of poking around -"

"No," said Harry flatly, "we've done enough poking around."

He pulled a map of Jupiter toward him and started to learn the names of its moons.

* * *

The following morning, notes were delivered to Harry, Hermione, and Neville at the breakfast table. They were all the same:

_**Your detention will take place at eleven o'clock tonight. Meet Mr. Filch in the entrance hall.**_

At eleven o'clock that night, they said good-bye to Ron and Jack in the common room and went down to the entrance hall with Neville.

Jack began to pace. He couldn't wait any longer.

"Hey Ron, think I'll go to the Library to borrow extra books for studying."

Unseen by Ron, he grabbed Harry's broomstick on his way out.

He sprinted toward the Ravenclaw common room - he needed to talk to Luna.

Entering the tight spiral case, he finally ended up in the entrance to Ravenclaw Common Room.

Before he can speak however, the bronze eagle-shaped locker spoke.

"What has four legs in the morning, two at noon, and three in the afternoon?"

Jack thought for a moment.

"Your Mom." He responded.

The door did not open.

"What now? Isn't your mum a human - oh right, you are an eagle."

Sighing, he answered the riddle.

"A human."

The door swung open. He crept inside, staying invisible.

He silently rode on the broomstick into the Girl's Dormitory.

_Now which of these beds is-_

A sound was heard from one of the beds.

Instantly holding his breath, Jack stood still until the four-poster curtain opened showing Luna in her nightgown.

He decided to reveal himself. Her eyes widening at the sight of the intruder, she tried to open her mouth until Jack put a finger on her mouth.

He motioned her to follow. throwing the Invisibility cloak over them, he crept out of the Revenclaw Common Room on to the stairway.

Luna followed him out of the Dormitory and the Common Room on to the stairway.

For a long time, neither of them spoke.

Jack decided to strike a conversation.

"So... Couldn't sleep?"

She nodded.

"Well, it's those nasty nargles; they always try to go inside your brains... They nest inside mistletoe you know..."

Jack raised his eyebrows. He decided to follow the charade.

"Of course, it was the nargles. Probably explains why I couldn't sleep either. Besides waiting for my friends to come back from the detention I mean."

"Oh? What did they do?"

"Oh, you know... got caught by Filch for going outside during past midnight..."

Luna nodded. "I sometimes go for midnight stroll too when I can't sleep you know. Sleep is important." She said seriously.

"Uhh... yeah, of course. Sleep is important during growing stage..." Jack trailed off, looking at her dreamy expression.

"Any reason why people don't like you? Referring to what happened today, of course."

Luna raised her head.

"How did you know?"

Jack waved his hands.

"Long story... but people seemed to..."

He struggled for the right word.

"Dislike you."

Luna nodded sadly.

"Yes... some people think I am crazy. Some people even call me _Loony_... But I try not to pay attention."

"And all because you talk about stuff other people can't see... and I thought Ravenclaws were supposed to be smart." He joked. "I mean, they shouldn't be doing something rude was shoving you inside a cabinet."

"I'm afraid the taunting will only grow." Luna said sadly.

Jack looked at his watch. It was past midnight.

"Well, if you ever need someone to talk to... You know me. I gotta go. It's getting late."

Luna nodded, standing.

"Well... Good night." Luna murmured while heading back.

* * *

Ron had fallen asleep in the dark common room, waiting for them to return.

Jack came back and sat down, thinking about the recent events.

Than harry and Hermione came in.

Ron was shouting something about Quidditch fouls when Harry roughly shook him awake. In a matter of seconds, though, he was wide-eyed as Harry began to tell him and Jack what had happened in the forest.

Harry couldn't sit down. He paced up and down in front of the fire. He was still shaking.

"Snape wants the stone for Voldemort... and Voldemort's waiting in the forest... and all this time we thought Snape just wanted to get rich..."

"Stop saying the name!" said Ron in a terrified whisper, as if he thought Voldemort could hear them.

Harry wasn't listening.

"Firenze saved me, but he shouldn't have done so... Bane was furious... he was talking about interfering with what the planets say is going to happen... They must show that Voldemort's coming back... Bane thinks Firenze should have let Voldemort kill me... I suppose that's written in the stars as well."

"Will you stop saying the name!" Ron hissed.

"So all I've got to wait for now is Snape to steal the Stone," Harry went on feverishly, "then Voldemort will be able to come and finish me off... Well, I suppose Bane will be happy."

"Bane has nothing against you; it is just that Centaurs are beings of high pride." Jack scowled. "It would have angered Bane to see one of his fellow Centaurs letting a human ride on their back."

Hermione looked very frightened, but she had a word of comfort.

"Harry, everyone says Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who was ever afraid of. With Dumbledore around, You-Know-Who won't touch you. Anyway, who says the centaurs are right? It sounds like fortune-telling to me, and Professor McGonagall says that's a very imprecise branch of magic."

The sky had turned light before they stopped talking. They went to bed exhausted, their throats sore.


	13. The Stone

If there was one thing Jack loathed, it was the exams.

It was bane of their existence.

It was pointless.

It was the only downside to going to a school fantastic as Hogwarts.

Well...

He still had to take it.

On the exam day, they took various exams. Teachers took a lot of precautions to stop cheating; they were given special quills with Anti-Cheating spells, and Remembralls or any other helping equipment was banned.

They had practical exams as well. Professor Flitwick called them one by one into his class to see if they could make a pineapple tap-dance across a desk. Professor McGonagall watched them turn a mouse into a snuffbox - points were given for how pretty the snuffbox was, but taken away if it had whiskers. Snape made them all nervous, breathing down their necks while they tried to remember how to make a Forgetfulness potion.

Jack couldn't help but snicker at the irony.

Their very last exam was History of Magic. One hour of answering questions about batty old wizards who'd invented self-stirring cauldrons and they'd be free, free for a whole wonderful week until their exam results came out. When the ghost of Professor Binns told them to put down their quills and roll up their parchment, Jack gave the loudest whoop.

"That was far easier than I thought it would be," said Hermione as they joined the crowds flocking out onto the sunny grounds. "I needn't have learned about the 1637 Werewolf Code of Conduct or the uprising of Elfric the Eager."

"Hermione, I told you," Jack muttered, as they walked along. "I do not want to even think of those exams ever again. Once is enough."

They wandered down to the lake and flopped under a tree. The Weasley twins and Lee Jordan were tickling the tentacles of a giant squid, which was basking in the warm shallows. "No more studying," Ron sighed happily, stretching out on the grass. "You could look more cheerful, Harry, we've got a week before we find out how badly we've done, there's no need to worry yet."

Harry was rubbing his forehead.

"I wish I knew what this means!" he burst out angrily. "My scar keeps hurting - it's happened before, but never as often as this."

"Go to Madam Pomfrey," Hermione suggested.

"I'm not ill," said Harry. "I think it's a warning... it means danger's coming..."

"Perhaps you are experiencing temporal headache." Jack suggested. "It probably means nothing..."

Ron couldn't get worked up, it was too hot.

"Harry, relax, Hermione's right, the Stone's safe as long as Dumbledore's around. Anyway, we've never had any proof Snape found out how to get past Fluffy. He nearly had his leg ripped off once; he's not going to try it again in a hurry. And Neville will play Quidditch for England before Hagrid lets Dumbledore down."

Harry nodded.

Jack stared contently to the lake. Their exams were done; hopefully Snape did not reach the stone yet...

Harry suddenly jumped to his feet.

"Where're you going?" said Ron sleepily.

"I've just thought of something," said Harry. He had turned white. "We've got to go and see Hagrid, now."

"Why?" panted Hermione, hurrying to keep up.

"Don't you think it's a bit odd," said Harry, scrambling up the grassy slope, "that what Hagrid wants more than anything else is a dragon, and a stranger turns up who just happens to have an egg in his pocket? How many people wander around with dragon eggs if it's against wizard law? Lucky they found Hagrid, don't you think? Why didn't I see it before?"

"Oh hell naw." Jack muttered with realization. "It was a setup."

"What are you talking about?" said Ron, but Harry, sprinting across the grounds toward the forest, didn't answer.

Hagrid was sitting in an armchair outside his house; his trousers and sleeves were rolled up, and he was shelling peas into a large bowl.

"Hullo," he said, smiling. "Finished yer exams? Got time fer a drink?"

"Yes, please," said Ron, but Harry cut him off.

"No, we're in a hurry. Hagrid, I've got to ask you something. You know that night you won Norbert? What did the stranger you were playing cards with look like?"

"Dunno," said Hagrid casually, "he wouldn' take his cloak off."

He saw the four of them look stunned and raised his eyebrows.

"It's not that unusual, yeh get a lot o' funny folk in the Hog's Head - that's the pub down in the village. Mighta bin a dragon dealer, mightn' he? I never saw his face, he kept his hood up."

Harry sank down next to the bowl of peas. "What did you talk to him about, Hagrid? Did you mention Hogwarts at all?"

"Mighta come up," said Hagrid, frowning as he tried to remember. "Yeah... he asked what I did, an' I told him I was gamekeeper here... He asked a bit about the sorta creatures I took after... so I told him... an' I said what I'd always really wanted was a dragon... an' then... I can' remember too well, 'cause he kept buyin' me drinks...

"You can't be serious." Jack interrupted.

"Let's see... yeah, then he said he had the dragon egg an' we could play cards fer it if I wanted... but he had ter be sure I could handle it, he didn' want it ter go ter any old home... So I told him, after Fluffy, a dragon would be easy..."

"And did he - did he seem interested in Fluffy?" Harry asked, trying to keep his voice calm.

"Well - yeah - how many three-headed dogs d'yeh meet, even around Hogwarts? So I told him, Fluffy's a piece o' cake if yeh know how to calm him down, jus' play him a bit o' music an' he'll go straight off ter sleep -"

Hagrid suddenly looked horrified.

"I shouldn'ta told yeh that!" he blurted out. "Forget I said it! Hey - where're yeh goin'?"

They didn't speak to each other at all until they came to a halt in the entrance hall, which seemed very cold and gloomy after the grounds.

"We've got to go to Dumbledore," said Harry. "Hagrid told that stranger how to get past Fluffy, and it was either Snape or Voldemort under that cloak - it must've been easy, once he'd got Hagrid drunk. I just hope Dumbledore believes us. Firenze might back us up if Bane doesn't stop him. Where's Dumbledore's office?"

They looked around, as if hoping to see a sign pointing them in the right direction. They had never been told where Dumbledore lived, nor did they know anyone who had been sent to see him.

"We'll just have to -" Harry began, but a voice suddenly rang across the hall.

"What are you three doing inside?"

It was Professor McGonagall, carrying a large pile of books.

"We want to see Professor Dumbledore," said Hermione, rather bravely, Jack thought.

"See Professor Dumbledore?" Professor McGonagall repeated, as though this was a very fishy thing to want to do. "Why?"

Jack swallowed - now what?

"It's sort of secret," he said, but he wished at once he hadn't, because Professor McGonagall's nostrils flared.

"Professor Dumbledore left ten minutes ago," she said coldly. "He received an urgent owl from the Ministry of Magic and flew off for London at once."

"He's gone?" said Harry frantically. "Now?"

"Professor Dumbledore is a very great wizard, Potter; he has many demands on his time -

"But this is important."

"Something you have to say is more important than the Ministry of Magic, Potter?"

"Look," said Harry, throwing caution to the winds, "Professor - it's about the Sorcerer's Stone -"

Whatever Professor McGonagall had expected, it wasn't that. The books she was carrying tumbled out of her arms, but she didn't pick them up. "How do you know -?" she spluttered.

"Professor, I think - I know - that Sn- that someone's going to try and steal the Stone. I've got to talk to Professor Dumbledore."

She eyed him with a mixture of shock and suspicion.

"Professor Dumbledore will be back tomorrow," she said finally. I don't know how you found out about the Stone, but rest assured, no one can possibly steal it, it's too well protected."

"But Professor -"

"Potter, I know what I'm talking about," she said shortly. She bent down and gathered up the fallen books. "I suggest you all go back outside and enjoy the sunshine."

But they didn't.

"It's tonight," said Harry, once he was sure Professor McGonagall was out of earshot. "Snape's going through the trapdoor tonight. He's found out everything he needs, and now he's got Dumbledore out of the way. He sent that note; I bet the Ministry of Magic will get a real shock when Dumbledore turns up."

"But what can we -"

Hermione gasped. Jack turned round.

Snape was standing there.

"Good afternoon," he said smoothly.

They stared at him.

"You shouldn't be inside on a day like this," he said, with an odd twisted smile.

"We were -" Harry began.

"You want to be more careful," said Snape. "Hanging around like this, people will think you're up to something. And Gryffindor really can't afford to lose any more points, can it?"

Jack scowled. They turned to go outside, but Snape called them back.

"Be warned, Potter - any more nighttime wanderings and I will personally make sure you are expelled. Good day to you."

He strode off in the direction of the staffroom.

Out on the stone steps, Harry turned to the others.

"Right, here's what we've got to do," he whispered urgently. "One of us has got to keep an eye on Snape - wait outside the staff room and follow him if he leaves it. Hermione, you'd better do that."

"Why me?"

"It's obvious," said Ron. "You can pretend to be waiting for Professor Flitwick, you know." He put on a high voice, "'Oh Professor Flitwick, I'm so worried; I think I got question Fourteen B wrong...'"

"Oh, shut up," said Hermione, but she agreed to go and watch out for Snape.

"And we'd better stay outside the third-floor corridor," Harry told Ron and Jack. "Come on."

But that part of the plan didn't work. No sooner had they reached the door separating Fluffy from the rest of the school than Professor McGonagall turned up again and this time, she lost her temper.

"I suppose you think you're harder to get past than a pack of enchantments!" she stormed. "Enough of this nonsense! If I hear you've come anywhere near here again, I'll take another fifty points from Gryffindor! Yes, Weasley, from my own house!"

They went back to the common room, Harry had just said, "At least Hermione's on Snape's tail," when the portrait of the Fat Lady swung open and Hermione came in.

"I'm sorry, Harry!" she wailed. "Snape came out and asked me what I was doing, so I said I was waiting for Flitwick, and Snape went to get him, and I've only just got away, I don't know where Snape went."

"Well, that's it then, isn't it?" Harry said.

The other three stared at him. He was pale and his eyes were glittering.

"I'm going out of here tonight and I'm going to try and get to the Stone first."

"You can't." said Jack.

"You're mad!" said Ron.

"You can't!" said Hermione. "After what McGonagall and Snape have said? You'll be expelled!"

"SO WHAT?" Harry shouted. "Don't you understand? If Snape gets hold of the Stone, Voldemort's coming back! Haven't you heard what it was like when he was trying to take over? There won't be any Hogwarts to get expelled from! He'll flatten it, or turn it into a school for the Dark Arts! Losing points doesn't matter anymore, can't you see? Do you think he'll leave you and your families alone if Gryffindor wins the house cup? If I get caught before I can get to the Stone, well, I'll have to go back to the Dursleys and wait for Voldemort to find me there, it's only dying a bit later than I would have, because I'm never going over to the Dark Side!

"But they have cookies." Jack interrupted.

Harry ignored him.

I'm going through that trapdoor tonight and nothing you two say is going to stop me! Voldemort killed my parents, remember?"

He glared at them.

"You're right Harry," said Hermione in a small voice.

"I'll use the invisibility cloak," said Harry. "It's just lucky I got it back."

"But will it cover all three of us?" said Ron.

"All - all three of us?"

"Oh, come off it, you don't think we'd let you go alone?"

"Of course not," said Hermione briskly. "How do you think you'd get to the Stone without us? I'd better go and took through my books; there might be something useful..."

"But if we get caught, you two will be expelled, too."

"Not if I can help it," said Hermione grimly. "Flitwick told me in secret that I got a hundred and twelve percent on his exam. They're not throwing me out after that."

"Guys, guys." Jack interrupted. "You guys go. I'll stay in Common Room and watch you."

"Watch us? How?" asked Harry.

Jack took out a parchment.

"I took this parchment from Filch's office." explained Jack. "It took a long time, but I finally figured out how to activate it."

He tapped the wand at the parchment.

"I solemnly swear I am up to no good."

Ink began to fill the parchment.

**Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs  
Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers  
are proud to present THE MARAUDER'S MAP**

They watched it with amazement.

"What does this do?" Hermione whispered.

"It shows the entire Hogwarts, including all the passage ways. And it shows everybody in there, and what they are doing, and where they are. I'll keep track of you guys using this map."

"Nice, but how will we communicate?" Ron frowned.

"I also prepared for that too." Jack grinned. He took out 2 hand mirrors.

"Ron, hold this one." Jack handed him one of the two mirrors."

"Can you see me?"

"Blimey!" Ron whispered. "It shows you Jack!"

"And this shows you." replied Jack. "Its two way mirror. Kind of like spy gadget. I'll use this to keep track and help you guys. If you need to contact me, just shout my name through this."

* * *

After dinner the four of them sat nervously apart in the common room. Nobody bothered them; none of the Gryffindors had anything to say to Harry any more, after all. This was the first night he hadn't been upset by it. Hermione was skimming through all her notes, hoping to come across one of the enchantments they were about to try to break. Harry and Ron didn't talk much. Both of them were thinking about what they were about to do. Slowly, the room emptied as people drifted off to bed.

"Better get the cloak," Ron muttered, as Lee Jordan finally left, stretching and yawning. Harry ran upstairs to their dark dormitory. He putted out the cloak and then his eyes fell on the flute Hagrid had given him for Christmas. He pocketed it to use on Fluffy - he didn't feel much like singing.

He ran back down to the common room.

"Remember Harry, if you need any help, just contact me." Jack reminded him as he settled into the chess table."

"We'd better put the cloak on here, and make sure it covers all three of us - if Filch spots one of our feet wandering along on its own -"

"What are you doing?" said a voice from the corner of the room. Neville appeared from behind an armchair, clutching Trevor the toad, who looked as though he'd been making another bid for freedom.

"Nothing, Neville, nothing," said Harry, hurriedly putting the cloak behind his back.

Neville stared at their guilty faces.

"You're going out again," he said.

"No, no, no," said Hermione. "No, we're not. Why don't you go to bed, Neville?"

Harry looked at the grandfather clock by the door. They couldn't afford

to waste any more time, Snape might even now be playing Fluffy to sleep.

"You can't go out," said Neville, "you'll be caught again. Gryffindor will be in even more trouble."

"You don't understand," said Harry, "this is important."

But Neville was clearly steeling himself to do something desperate.

I won't let you do it," he said, hurrying to stand in front of the portrait hole. "I'll - I'll fight you!"

"Neville, "Ron exploded, "get away from that hole and don't be an idiot -"

"Don't you call me an idiot!" said Neville. I don't think you should be breaking any more rules! And you were the one who told me to stand up to people!"

"Yes, but not to us," said Ron in exasperation. "Neville, you don't know what you're doing."

He took a step forward and Neville dropped Trevor the toad, who leapt out of sight.

"Go on then, try and hit me!" said Neville, raising his fists. "I'm ready!"

Harry turned to Hermione.

"Do something," he said desperately.

Hermione stepped forward.

"Neville," she said, "I'm really, really sorry about this."

She raised her wand.

"Petrificus Totalus!" she cried, pointing it at Neville.

Neville's arms snapped to his sides. His legs sprang together. His whole body rigid, he swayed where he stood and then fell flat on his face, stiff as a board.

Jack face palmed. "Of all the time he mustered his courage, it was wasted on trying to delay us... We have no time guys," said Jack, looking over them. "Hurry."

Hermione ran to turn him over. Neville's jaws were jammed together so he couldn't speak. Only his eyes were moving, looking at them in horror.

"What've you done to him?" Harry whispered.

"It's the full Body-Bind," said Hermione miserably. "Oh, Neville, I'm so sorry."

"We had to, Neville, no time to explain," said Harry.

"You'll understand later, Neville," said Ron as they stepped over him and pulled on the invisibility cloak.

They went out of the dormitory.

Jack concentrated on the map.

They were headed toward the first set of stairs. The black dot representing Mrs. Norris came up to them.

Three dots stopped for a moment, than they passed the cat.

When they reached the third floor, a grey dot representing peeves swooped down.

Jack grimaced. Of all time to meet Peeves...

But for some reason, after a minute or two, the grey dot representing peeves suddenly moved to the side, and three black dots passed through.

Jack raised his eyebrows. What did they do?

Jack picked up the mirror.

"Progress Report?" asked Jack through the mirror.

A moment after, a voice replied back.

"Oh, it's you Jack, we almost had a heart attack..." Hermione breathed.

"So, what did you do to Peeves?"

"Harry mimed Bloody Baron; it worked perfectly."

Jack grinned. So that's how they done it...

"Keep the mirror close. I want to hear and watch you at the same time."

He concentrated back on the map.

"If you want to go back, I won't blame you," Voice that sounded like Harry's flooded over the mirror. "You can take the cloak, I won't need it now."

"Don't be stupid," said Ron.

"We're coming," said Hermione.

Jack heard a door creak. A growl came from the mirror.

"What's that at its feet?" Hermione whispered.

"Looks like a harp," said Ron. "Snape must have left it there."

"It must wake up the moment you stop playing," said Harry. "Well, here goes..."

Jack heard a tune coming from the mirror. It was not exactly a song, but it seemed to have worked, as he heard a noise and a dog drool.

"Keep playing, I think we'll be able to pull the door open,"

"Want to go first, Hermione?"

"No, I don't!"

"All right."

"What can you see?"

"Nothing - just black - there's no way of climbing down, we'll just have to drop."

"You can't be serious." muttered Jack.

"You want to go first? Are you sure?" said Ron.

"I don't know how deep this thing goes. Give the flute to Hermione so she can keep him asleep."

There was a few moment of silence, than flute began to play again.

"Ugh, insanitary." Jack wrinkled his nose. "Playing a flute someone else played a moment ago; I'm glad I didn't go with you guys."

"Oh hush." Hermione's voice replied.

The dog growled and twitched, but the moment Hermione began to play, it fell back into its deep sleep.

"If anything happens to me, don't follow. Go straight to the Owlery and send Hedwig to Dumbledore, right?"

"Right,"

"See you in a minute, I hope...

After few seconds, there was a sound of soft cushion.

"It's okay!" he called up. "It's a soft landing, you can jump!"

Ron followed right away.

"Hermione, hold the mirror tight." Jack reminded her.

A voice replied back. "I know."

The distant music stopped. There was a loud bark from the dog.

"We must be miles under the school."

"Lucky this plant thing's here, really," said Ron.

Jack eyes widened.

"Plant?" asked Jack through the mirror. "What plant?"

"Stop moving!" Hermione ordered them. "I know what this is - it's Devil's Snare!"

"Oh, I'm so glad we know what it's called, that's a great help," snarled Ron.

"Shut up, I'm trying to remember how to kill it!" said Hermione.

"Well, hurry up, I can't breathe!" Harry gasped, wrestling with it as it curled around his chest.

"Devil's Snare, Devil's Snare... what did Professor Sprout say? - it likes the dark and the damp -"

"So light a fire!" Jack shouted.

"Yes - of course - but there's no wood!" Hermione cried, wringing her hands.

"HAVE YOU GONE MAD?" Ron bellowed.

Jack pulled his ears from the mirror.

"ARE YOU A WITCH OR NOT?"

"Oh, right!"

A moment later, a sound of fire crackling merrily reached Jack's ears.

"Next time, please don't shout." asked Jack, massaging his ear.

"Lucky you pay attention in Herbology, Hermione," said Harry.

"Yeah," said Ron, "and lucky Jack doesn't lose his head in a crisis - 'there's no wood,' honestly."

"This way," a voice replied.

All Jack could hear were their footsteps and the gentle drip of water trickling down the walls.

"Can you hear something?" Ron whispered.

A silence. Than a reply:

"Do you think it's a ghost?"

"I don't know... sounds like wings to me."

"There's light ahead - I can see something moving."

"Do you think they'll attack us if we cross the room?" said Ron.

"Probably," said Harry. "They don't look very vicious, but I suppose if they all swooped down at once... well, there's no other choice... I'll run."

"Well, what is it?' Jack demanded.

"It's birds." Hermione replied. "No wait, these birds... they can't be here just for decoration," said Hermione.

"They're not birds!" Harry said suddenly. "They're keys! Winged keys - look carefully. So that must mean... yes - look! Broomsticks! We've got to catch the key to the door!"

"But there are hundreds of them!"

_Great_, Jack thought. _This will take a long time._

Ron examined the lock on the door.

"We're looking for a big, old-fashioned one - probably silver, like the handle."

For next moments, the only sound that could be heard was scuffles and beating of the wings while the rest tried to grab one.

"That one!" A voice rang out. "That big one - there - no, there - with bright blue wings - the feathers are all crumpled on one side."

A whoosh. A sickening crash.

"We've got to close in on it!" Harry called. "Ron, you come at it from above - Hermione, stay below and stop it from going down and I'll try and catch it. Right, NOW!"

After a moment, Ron and Hermione's cheers echoed around the high chamber.

There was sound of key turning was heard.

"Everybody ok?" Jack called into the mirror. "No casualties?"

"None." a voice replied.

They opened the door.

"Now what do we do?" Harry whispered.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" said Ron. "We've got to play our way across the room."

"What is it?" Jack asked.

"A giant chess set." replied Hermione.

Jack raised his eyebrows.

"Well, good luck; I'm no good at chess."

"What do we do?" Hermione's nervous voice was heard.

"I think," said Ron, "we're going to have to be chessmen."

There was a sound of Horse.

"Do we - er - have to join you to get across?"

A moment of silence.

"I suppose we've got to take the place of three of the black pieces... Now, don't be offended or anything, but neither of you are that good at chess -"

"We're not offended," said Harry quickly. "Just tell us what to do."

"Well, Harry, you take the place of that bishop, and Hermione, you stand next to him instead of that castle."

"What about you?"

"I'm going to be a knight," said Ron.

"White always plays first in chess," said Ron. "Yes... look..."

"I would be asking too much for play-by-play would I?" Jack asked.

There was no reply.

"I guess so." Jack sighed.

* * *

There was a sound of smashing stone.

"Had to let that happen," said Ron. "Leaves you free to take that bishop, Hermione, go on."

There was another sound of smashing stone. One after the other. Jack flinched each time the sound was heard.

"This is the reason why I don't play wizard's chess." Jack said. "The sound irritates me."

"We're nearly there," he muttered suddenly. "Let me think let me think..."

A moment of silence.

"Yes..." said Ron softly, "It's the only way... I've got to be taken."

"No!" Harry and Hermione shouted.

"You want have concussion?" Jack shouted.

"That's chess!" snapped Ron. "You've got to make some sacrifices! I take one step forward and she'll take me - that leaves you free to checkmate the king, Harry!"

"But -"

"Do you want to stop Snape or not?"

"Ron -"

"Look, if you don't hurry up, he'll already have the Stone!"

There was no alternative.

"Ready?" Ron called his face pale but determined. "Here I go - now, don't hang around once you've won."

Silence. I sound of slapping. A crash.

Hermione screamed.

"Is he knocked out?" Jack asked. There was no answer.

There was a sound of stone hitting the floor.

"Did you guys win?" asked Jack.

"Yes," Hermione's voice replied. "What if he's -?"

"He'll be all right, what do you reckon is next?"

"We've had Sprout's, that was the Devil's Snare; Flitwick must've put charms on the keys; McGonagall transfigured the chessmen to make them alive; that leaves Quirrell's spell, and Snape's."

A sound of turning knob.

"All right?"

"Go on."

There was a sound of door opening.

Jack stared at the map.

There was a blue dot, with the word "Troll" written under it.

"I'm glad we didn't have to fight that one," Harry whispered. "Come on, I can't breathe."

A sound of door being pushed open followed.

"Snape's," said Harry. "What do we have to do?"

"First, what is it?" asked Jack.

"An assortment of Potions; it must be Snape's."

A sound of fire flickering to life was heard.

"Look!"

There was a sound of paper. Than Hermione's voice rang out.

"Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,

Two of us will help you, whichever you would find,

One among us seven will let you move ahead,

Another will transport the drinker back instead,

Two among our number hold only nettle wine,

Three of us are killers, waiting bidden in line.

Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore,

To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:

First, however slyly the poison tries to hide

You will always find some on nettle wine's left side;

Second, different are those who stand at either end,

But if you would move onward, neither is your friend;

Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,

Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;

Fourth, the second left and the second on the right

Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight."

Hermione let out a great sigh.

"Brilliant," said Hermione. "This isn't magic - it's logic - a puzzle. A lot of the greatest wizards haven't got an ounce of logic; they'd be stuck in here forever."

"But so will we, won't we?"

"Of course not," said Hermione. "Everything we need is here on this paper. Seven bottles: three are poison; two are wine; one will get us safely through the black fire, and one will get us back through the purple."

"But how do we know which to drink?"

"Give me a minute."

Hermione read the paper several times. Then she walked up and down the line of bottles, muttering to herself and pointing at them. At last, she clapped her hands.

"Got it," she said. "The smallest bottle will get us through the black fire - toward the Stone."

"There's only enough there for one of us," he said. "That's hardly one swallow."

Silence.

"Which one will get you back through the purple flames?" asked Jack.

"You drink that," said Harry. "No, listen, get back and get Ron. Grab brooms from the flying- key room, they'll get you out of the trapdoor and past Fluffy - go straight to the Owlery and send Hedwig to Dumbledore, and we need him. I might be able to hold Snape off for a while, but I'm no match for him, really."

"But Harry - what if You-Know-Who's with him?"

"Well - I was lucky once, wasn't I?" said Harry. "I might get lucky again."

A silence, than there was sounds of cloths clashing together.

"Hermione!"

"Harry - you're a great wizard, you know."

"I'm not as good as you,"

"Me!" said Hermione. "Books! And cleverness! There are more important things - friendship and bravery and - oh Harry - be careful!"

"Uhh..." Jack stared at the Grandfather Clock. "We have no time guys. Please, no mushy moments."

"You drink first," said Harry. "You are sure which is which, aren't you?"

"Positive," said Hermione.

There was a sound of liquid.

"It's not poison?" said Harry anxiously.

"No - but it's like ice."

"Quick, go, before it wears off."

"Good luck - take care."

"GO!"

There was a sound of fire crackling, than it died.

"Hermione?"

Silence.

"Hermione!" Jack shouted through the mirror, standing up. "What's the matter?"

"Jack, go get Dumbledore." a quiet voice came out.

"What?"

"Now!"

Jack eyes widened.

He ran.


	14. Ending

Jack pulled out his map. There was still no sign of Dumbledore - wait a minute... A tiny dot named Albus Dumbledore was hurrying through the steps of the castle.

Jack ran forward, crashing into the knight in armor; the knight who began to fix his skewed helm cursed at him shaking his fist. Jack raced through the stairs to reach Great Hall. There he was, Dumbledore was going up the stairs of the entrance hall.

"Mr. Black," Dumbledore shouted, taking his wand out. "Harry -"

"Gone after the stone. Please Professor, you got to hurry."

Changing his direction Dumbledore raced after the 3rd floor.

Jack stared at the back of retreating Dumbledore.

He hoped that they weren't too late.

* * *

Dumbledore came back carrying Harry, Ron and Hermione with him.

"Is Snape-"

"It was Quirrell, Jack. And he is dead."

Jack rasied his eyebrows.

"Dead?"

"Dead."

So it was Quirrell, not Snape. Does that mean he tricked them all?

* * *

He paced back and forth in his dorm. Harry was still unconscious after one day; he was beginning to get nervous.

* * *

He began playing knuckle-bones to keep him calm. It was two days now, and Harry was still not awake. He was really getting agitated.

* * *

He began praying; he never saw himself was religious, but Christianity seemed the best religion to depend on for reviving someone...

He was promising himself to pray every Sunday when Hermione arrived with the news that Harry was awake.

* * *

Jack, Ron and Hermione were waiting impatiently outside the Hospital Wing.

"Just five minutes," Jack could hear Harry talking.

"Absolutely not."

"You let Professor Dumbledore in..."

"Well, of course, that was the headmaster, quite different. You need rest."

"I am resting, look, lying down and everything. Oh, go on, Madam Pomfrey..."

"Oh, very well," she said. "But five minutes only."

And she let them in.

"Harry!"

Hermione looked ready to fling her arms around him again, but Harry was glad she held herself in as his head was still very sore.

"Oh, Harry, we were sure you were going to - Dumbledore was so worried -"

"The whole school's talking about it," said Ron. "What really happened?"

"Well, I went through the fire; then there was Quirrell standing there, not Snape."

Jack grimaced. "I guess he was searching for the Stone?'

"Yeah, the last room at Mirror or Erised standing there."

"So what happened?" asked Hermione.

"Well, Quirrell was all cool and calm. He was not even stuttering. He faked it the whole time."

"Nimrod." Jack muttered under his breath.

"And it turned out, Snape was actually trying to save me; if it weren't for him, I would have fallen sooner."

Hermione gasped. "I remember knocking Professor Quirrell on the way to distract Snape; oh, why didn't I notice..."

"And he also said that he was the one who released the troll in the dungeons; he has special gift with Trolls. He snapped his fingers and ropes surrounded me. I tried to distract him, and soon he told me that You-Know-Who was everywhere he went."

They all had similar reactions.

"And then I tried to get closer to the mirror, but the ropes were too tight and I fell over; than when Quirrell asked out loud for help to some Master, a voice that wasn't Quirrell's came from his head."

"His head?" Hermione whispered with hush voice.

"His head." Harry nodded. "The voice said to use me, and I stared at the mirror. I saw myself winking, and taking out the Stone. Then suddenly something heavy appeared in my pocket."

Ron gasped. "The Sorcerer's Stone?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, and I tried to lie when Quirrell asked me what I saw; I said that I was receiving a House Cup.

"Reasonable, since you lost all those points." Jack snickered.

"Quirrell cursed, and tried to look at the mirror again, but the voice knew. And he told Quirrell that he wished to speak me face to face. Than Quirrell unbound his turban."

"What was there?" Hermione whispered.

"Voldemort."

Hermione screamed.

Ron and Jack jumped.

"Voldemort knew that I had the Stone in the pocket. He told me to hand it over." Harry's face turned to one of determined. "But I wouldn't give it in without a fight."

"That's the spirit." Jack cheered.

"So Quirrell tried to take it; but after he touched me, the immediately let go. His hands were burned."

Hermione fidgeted. "What happened?"

"Well, according to Dumbledore, my mum sacrificed herself for me, and her blood protects me until I am adult; or something like that. So anyway, I tried to get him off the stone by lunging at him and covering his face with my hands. After that, I fainted as Dumbledore came."

"After I woke up, Dumbledore told me about what happened; and Dumbledore and Flamel had a chat and they decided to destroy the stone."

"So the Stone's gone?" said Ron finally. "Flamel's just going to die?"

"That's what I said, but Dumbledore thinks that - what was it? - 'to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.

"I always said he was off his rocker," said Ron, looking quite impressed at how crazy his hero was.

"So what happened to you two?" said Harry.

"Well, I got back all right," said Hermione. "I brought Ron round - that took a while - and we were dashing up to the Owlery to contact Dumbledore when Jack met him in the entrance hall and he hurtled off to the third floor."

"D'you think he meant you to do it?" said Ron. "Sending you your father's cloak and everything?"

"Well, I think it's brilliant." Jack was smiling.

"Well, " Hermione exploded, "if he did - I mean to say that's terrible - you could have been killed."

"No, it isn't," said Harry thoughtfully. "He's a funny man, Dumbledore. I think he sort of wanted to give me a chance. I think he knows more or less everything that goes on here, you know. I reckon he had a pretty good idea we were going to try, and instead of stopping us, he just taught us enough to help. I don't think it was an accident he let me find out how the mirror worked. It's almost like he thought I had the right to face Voldemort if I could..."

"Yeah, Dumbledore's off his rocker, all right," said Ron proudly.

"Listen, you've got to be up for the end-of-year feast tomorrow. The points are all in and Slytherin won, of course - you missed the last Quidditch match, we were steamrollered by Ravenclaw without you - but the food'll be good."

At that moment, Madam Pomfrey bustled over.

"You've had nearly fifteen minutes, now OUT!" she said firmly.

* * *

Jack was devouring a piece of chicken when Harry came in. There was a sudden halt of activities, than everybody began talking again, trying to get a look of Harry.

Dumbledore arrived moments later. The babble died away.

"Another year gone!" Dumbledore said cheerfully. "And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were... you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts...

"Now, as I understand it, the house cup here needs awarding, and the points stand thus: In fourth place, Gryffindor, with two hundred and sixty-two; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; Ravenclaw has four hundred and twenty-six and Slytherin, four hundred and seventy- two."

A storm of cheering and stamping broke out from the Slytherin table.

Harry could see Draco Malfoy banging his goblet on the table. It was a sickening sight.

"Yes, Yes, well done, Slytherin," said Dumbledore. "However, recent events must be taken into account."

The room went very still. The Slytherins' smiles faded a little.

"Ahem," said Dumbledore. "I have a few last-minute points to dish out. Let me see. Yes...

"First - to Mr. Ronald Weasley..."

Ron went purple in the face; he looked like a radish with a bad sunburn.

"...for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."

Gryffindor cheers nearly raised the bewitched ceiling; the stars overhead seemed to quiver. Percy could be heard telling the other prefects, "My brother, you know! My youngest brother! Got past McGonagall's giant chess set!"

At last there was silence again.

"Second - to Miss Hermione Granger... for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."

Hermione buried her face in her arms; Harry strongly suspected she had burst into tears. Gryffindors up and down the table were beside themselves - they were a hundred points up.

"Third - to Mr. Jack Black... for helping his friends to the end, I award Gryffindor House fifty-points."

Jack stood up and bowed as they clapped and shouted.

Harry Potter..." said Dumbledore. The room went deadly quiet. "For pure nerve and outstanding courage; I award Gryffindor house sixty points."

The din was deafening. Those who could add up while yelling themselves hoarse knew that Gryffindor now had four hundred and seventy-two points - exactly the same as Slytherin. They had tied for the house cup – if only Dumbledore had given Harry just one more point.

Dumbledore raised his hand. The room gradually fell silent.

"There are all kinds of courage," said Dumbledore, smiling. "It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom."

Someone standing outside the Great Hall might well have thought some sort of explosion had taken place, so loud was the noise that erupted from the Gryffindor table. Harry, Ron, Jack and Hermione stood up to yell and cheer as Neville, white with shock, disappeared under a pile of people hugging him. He had never won so much as a point for Gryffindor before.

Harry, still cheering, nudged Ron in the ribs and pointed at Malfoy, who couldn't have looked more stunned and horrified if he'd just had the Body-Bind Curse put on him.

"Which means, Dumbledore called over the storm of applause, for even Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were celebrating the downfall of Slytherin, "we need a little change of decoration."

He clapped his hands. In an instant, the green hangings became scarlet and the silver became gold; the huge Slytherin serpent vanished and a towering Gryffindor lion took its place. Snape was shaking Professor McGonagall's hand, with a horrible, forced smile.

* * *

Hagrid was there to take them down to the fleet of boats that sailed across the lake; they were boarding the Hogwarts Express;

talking and laughing as the countryside became greener and tidier; eating Bettie Bott's Every Flavor Beans as they sped past Muggle towns; pulling off their wizard robes and putting on jackets and coats; pulling into platform nine and three-quarters at King's Cross Station. It took quite a while for them all to get off the platform. A wizened old guard was up by the ticket barrier, letting them go through the gate in twos and threes so they didn't attract attention by all bursting out of a solid wall at once and alarming the Muggles.

"You must come and stay this summer," said Ron, "all of you - I'll send you an owl."

"Thanks," said Harry, "I'll need something to look forward to." People jostled them as they moved forward toward the gateway back to the Muggle world. Some of them called:

"Bye, Harry!"

"See you, Potter!"

"Still famous," said Jack, grinning at him.

"Not where I'm going, I promise you," said Harry.

He, Ron, and Hermione passed through the gateway together. "There he is, Mom, there he is, look!"

It was Ginny Weasley, Ron's younger sister, but she wasn't pointing at Ron.

"Harry Potter!" she squealed. "Look, Mom! I can see -"

"Be quiet, Ginny, and it's rude to point."

Mrs. Weasley smiled down at them.

"Busy year?" she said.

"Very," said Harry. "Thanks for the fudge and the sweater, Mrs. Weasley."

"Oh, it was nothing, dear."

"Ready, are you?"

It was Uncle Vernon, still purple-faced, still mustached, still looking furious at the nerve of Harry, carrying an owl in a cage in a station full of ordinary people. Behind him stood Aunt Petunia and Dudley, looking terrified at the very sight of Harry.

"You must be Harry's family!" said Mrs. Weasley.

"In a manner of speaking," said Uncle Vernon. "Hurry up, boy, we haven't got all day." He walked away.

Harry hung back for a last word with Ron and Hermione.

"See you over the summer, then."

"Hope you have - er - a good holiday," said Hermione, looking uncertainly after Uncle Vernon, shocked that anyone could be so unpleasant.

"Wow Harry," Jack looked at him in mock pity. "Can't believe you have to live with those guys. Those types of people usually piss me off. I hope you might have better summer though."

"Oh, I will," said Harry, and they were surprised at the grin that was spreading over his face. "They don't know we're not allowed to use magic at home. I'm going to have a lot of fun with Dudley this summer..."


	15. AN

Wow, there are still some people reading this fiction?

I'm surprised and humbled; so I thought that for those of you still looking for update, you deserve one.

3 weeks from now there is finals for me. After that I will have enough time to update this story. First I'm gonna have to fix some parts of the story; so minor that it will not affect the plot. After that, begins the second story!

I solemnly swear to write a better story for the second book.

Edit: The second story is up!


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